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My 

Bird 
Parishioners. 



St. Paul's Parish, 

Paris Hill, N. Y. 



1897. 






tk The sparrow hath found her an house, and 
the swallow a nest, where she may lay her 
young; even thy altars, O Lord of hosts, my 
King and my God." — Psalm 84 : 3. 



S 



WO?* 



L. C. Childs & Son, 

Printers, Lithographers and Binders, 

Utica, N. Y. 



Copyright 1806 
By Rev. J. B. Wicks. 



TO OLD ST. PAUL S CHURCH, PARIS HILL, VEN- 
ERABLE WITH YEARS, AND HOLY WITH SA- 
CRED MEMORIES, THIS LITTLE BOOKLET 
IS DEDICATED, AS A TOKEN OF THE 
AUTHOR^ AFFECTION FOR THE 
CHURCH OF HIS BOYHOOD, 
AND OF SO MANY 
OF HIS RIPER 
YEARS. 

— / B. Wicks. 




T IS one thing to be an ornithologist, and 
another to be a companion and lover 
of birds. Probably my friend, the Pas- 
tor on Paris Hill, does not so much concern himself 
with the scientific structure, anatomy or nomencla- 
ture of his subject, in the Genus and Species, with or- 
ganization or classification, whatever his knowledge 
of those matters may be, as with the living, flying, 
singing creature in the air, or the grass, or the nest, 
or on the tree, the bush, or the barn. He deals ? 
that is, with his parishioners in the forest and field, 
as he does with his parishioners in the church ; he 
takes them, watches them, studies them, alive. In 
each of the congregations he finds songs and song- 
sters ; who shall say he does not find worshippers ? 
If he preaches to the winged things, he does only 
what the great Saint Francis of Assisidid, and doubt- 
less does it as well. He has been familiar with both 
audiences from his babyhood, and who can wonder 
that mutual confidence and sympathy have grown up 
between them ? 



6 PREFACE. 

Apart from the charm, the instruction and the in- 
genuity of this book itself, those who read it — and 
they should be many — may learn from it how much 
more the world of nature about us has to give us 
than most of us are apt to take or seek, what stores 
of satisfying knowledge and rich delight lie close at 
hand, and how true it is that what we really see day 
by day depends less on the objects and scenes, before 
our eyes than on the eyes themselves and the minds 
and hearts that use them. 

F. D. Huntington. 

Syracuse, Nov. 29, 1896. 



THE COMING OF THE BIRDS. 



i. 




ARIS HILL, with all its disadvantages^ 
is Scriptural in its location, having its 
commanding place where it can not be 
hid. Some of the early settlers, we 
know, found their way to this range of hills and took 
up their claims here because it was hill country. 
High as the snow may pile, it never buries the hill 
out of sight, and never in its passing floods the roads 
and farms, or carries away the bridges that span the 
rivulets which run among the hills. The winter of 
1895-6, like its predecessors, has been prolific in wind 
and cold, and, unlike some of them, has flung the 
snow far and wide, even shaping it into huge drifts 
that from a little distance can easily be mistaken for 
the sand dunes of the seashore. Several months of 
this piling and shaping easily gives the snow hills not 
only place but character. In our little village during 
the past winter the architect and builder of the white 
drifts has been the west wind. The other breezes 
have simply played a little here and there, but with 



8 MY BIRD PA R/SHIONERS. 

no perceptible influence. From the west towards the 
east the palaces of glistening crystal have risen slowly 
until they seem a part of the hamlet itself. 

Out into the park, from the open space south of 
Graham's store, is the drift easily first among the 
many. Below it, on the same side of the village, are 
its fellows, like the outlying bastions of some great 
fort, leading one to think that the wind shapes all its 
creations after some well-considered design. , The 
curious feature, however, is the fact that each drift 
folds itself about house and church as though its 
mission was to keep and defend. The Congrega- 
tional session room is buttressed far up above the 
door, and to seek its cozy aisles is to press through 
the narrow, if not straight, way. It may be fancy, 
but to me there is the Frost-King, ruling in the 
realm of snow and ice, sending out his frost and cold, 
blowing with his great winds and building his houses 
that glisten in the sunlight, like the fabled creations 
of the Arabian Nights. All of it to the devout soul is 
redolent with the sentiment of the old hymn: 
" Bless ye the Lord ! Praise Him and magnify Him 
forever!" 

But the day of the snow passes, and the spring 
time is given place. Our first day of real freedom 
came the 30th of March. In the early morning the 
sky was lighted by a few flashes of electricity, and a 



THE COMING OF THE BIRDS. 9 

little later the first birds told the story we had all 
been waiting so long to hear. The clear note of the 
robin welcomed the rising sun. No other birds ap- 
peared, but it was all the same to robin- 
He went on cheerily, doing his best. What 
a brusque fellow he is ! How the spring air, 
or something else, seems to thrill every nerve 
in robin's body with new, stirring life ! It may be 
he has some idea of the work that lies before him 
and prepares for it in a few days of wild, rollicking 
fun. Several of them have looked in upon me to- 
day. They all come with a whirring rush, ringing 
out their sharp note and jerking their little bodies 
as though life was all to be lived in a moment. If 
there were only some way of interviewing the dap- 
per fellows what stories of adventure they would un- 
fold ! I remember seeing a company of these birds 
spending the winter in the far southwest. They had 
laid aside all the domestic quietness which marks 
their summer demeanor at the north, and roamed 
about as happy as a company of school boys out for 
a long vacation. Jn the entire year robin devotes 
but two or three months to housekeeping. During 
that time he is a changed being. Just the day it is 
all settled how and where to begin the summer work, 
the free-lance character disappears and the pair, 
newly mated, take up the sober duties of life. All 



io MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

the birds are of one kin in this, and so seem not 
very far removed from their brethren of nature hu- 
man. 

Just a day later than the robins, the meadow- 
larks and bluebirds appeared, and on the next day 
the sparrows came trooping in. Some of the details 
of this annual migration of the birds we know, but 
the hidden part is vastly larger than the part re- 
vealed. They go from us — myriads of them— and 
almost all we know of it is the void they leave be- 
hind. They come again, as they are now coming, 
and we hardly know more of their coming than that 
they have come. The night closes in upon us clear, 
with the snow rapidly melting — not a bird in sight 
or sound. The morning dawns, and the dwellers of 
an entire county are saluted with the matins of 
legions of the feathered songsters. There is reason 
for believing that the great host is marshalled with 
some regard for order. They come with the effi- 
ciency and precision of a well-ordered army. Appa- 
rently they occupy several degrees of latitude at one 
stroke, and when once they have taken possession, 
in some way, they seem quite oblivious to everything 
but just the cheer of living. For days they go to 
and fro, seemingly the freest among the free ; but 
all the time the spirit of business is inciting them. 
The free movement, the rapid flight, and the stirring 



THE COMING OF THE BIRDS. 1 1 

notes, are strains of the nuptial song that eventu- 
ally domiciles an unnumbered host of merry house- 
keepers in all our groves and fields. How little of 
this great hive of song and work, of cheeriest, sweet- 
est life we ever see. All the year, from the earliest 
spring time to the coming of the snow in the fall, 
this wealth of bird-life is in our very midst. It is 
the open book of our wide hills and vales, and it is 
the purpose of the writer of this article, from time to 
time, to turn the pages of this book that all may see 
and enjoy with him the story of the freest, merriest 
dwellers of our favored land. 



THE PARIS BERKSHIRE. 

II. 

Snow and cold have given quite a chill to our 
April air. The birds have made a note of the fact 
and apparently fitted their song to the changed con- 
ditions. The soberer notes, however, have the ring 
of spring life in them, and to the ear that is really 
open to Mother Nature's sounds, are full of the rich- 
est music. One of our winter denizens —and sum- 
mer denizens too — never seems to make any differ- 
ence in the song he sings ; that is, it always appears 
to have about the same amount of cheer in it. Per- 
haps that is a part of the reason why one of our 
most prominent localities has been named after this 
bird of black — " Crow Hill." By the way, I learn 
from articles published, that this same Crow Hill is 
to become the summer home of some of our Utica 
friends. The writer has known the locality from 
boyhood and can testify to its attractions. For a 
summer home it can not be excelled. The view in 
any direction to the north and west, is simply mag- 
nificent. The strange thing about it is that it has 
not been sought as a summer resort long ere this. 



THE PARIS BERKSHIRE. 



1 3 



It is the northern spur of the range of hills which 
extend to the southward and culminate in Tassel- 
Hill, near Waterville, the highest point in southern 
Oneida. A mile to the southeast of Crow Hill is a 
prominent point known as Smith Hill. In part, it 
overlooks the former, and fairly rivals it in its wide 
■sweep of vision. It commands the same broad ex- 
panse of the Mohawk valley and of the western hills, 
with a- more extensive view of the high country be- 
yond Sauquoit. It is a well wooded summit, with 
some fine springs along its western slope. Chad-, 
wicks, on the D., L. & W., lies almost under its east- 
ern side, two miles away. Still farther to the south 
is a hill somewhat lower, that has long been noted 
for its extremely fine view. Captain John Wicks, 
one of Paris' pioneers, found this spot to his liking 
and for many years made it justly celebrated for his 
courtly sailor hospitality. Southward from this point, 
along both slopes of the range, the outlook varies as 
the hills bend outward into the valley or shrink away 
into the heart of the range. 

Just at the foot of Tassel Hill, a few hundred yards 
from the Paris station, Mr. Russell H. Wicks, of 
Utica, has his summer cottage. It stands in a maple 
grove looking toward the sunrise. Its view among 
the hills of the range cannot be surpassed. Not far 
away in the years, the writer fancies, the electrics will 



14 



MY BIRD PARISHIONERS, 



spin along this elevated plateau, and cottages will be 
dropped here and there over the entire slope. The 
Massachusetts' cities have utilized their surroundings 
in this way, notably Pittsfield, Springfield and Wor- 
cester, and have found by experience that it is 
the most satisfactory and inexpensive way of securing 
a summer outing. Of course the lake scenery and its 
pastime of boating and fishing are wanting in this 
Paris-Berkshire ; but on the other hand the littleones 
may ramble and play far and near, and the fond 
mothers have no concern regarding their entire safety 
from all peril of cliff or of pond. The summer 
breezes of the Paris hills are famous for their invigor- 
ating healthfulness, and the streams that find their 

way down the sloping sides sparkle in the sunlight 

the best " free silver coinage " the writer knows. 

Cradled on the very summit of the range, east of 
Paris village a little distanee, lies a marshy tract cov- 
ered more or less densely with pine, fir and cedar 
growth. Undoubtedly in some eon far away a beauti- 
ful sheet of water, like the crescent moon, reached out 
and clasped the village site in its sparkling embrace. 
Prof. Root, of Hamilton college, — the first bearing 
that honored name in those classic halls — explored 
all the recesses of the hill swamp. It was an experi- 
ence of the writer's boyhood to accompany the pro- 
fessor on several expeditions, and to have often 



THE PARIS BERKSHIRE. 



15 



heard him say that " there was no place in the wide 
range of his knowledge that grew such a great variety 
of plants as the Paris swamp." In its deeper re- 
cesses is found the white cyprepedium, the moccasin 
flower or lady-slipper of the country side. I think he 
told me he found this flower nowhere else in this part 
of the state. The writer has never seen it in any 
other locality. Last summer our closest researches 
only revealed two or three specimens. Several other 
flowers of the orchid family are found here, also the 
pitcher plant, and just at the edge of the hard land 
the " Indian Pipe." The bird life is varied, as it is 
in all this region. The one song of the Hermit 
Thrush, however, is the unrivaled melody of these 
leafy aisles. Mr. Burroughs is surely interpreting 
nature rightly when he says : " The song of the 
Hermit Thrush is the spiritual song among the birds." 
The old Moyer road intersects the swamp on its 
southern border, or rather finds its way through where 
a narrow neck of hard land extends nearly across the 
marsh. Tradition says that a division of General 
Sullivan's army passed over this point, and that some 
of the logs with which he bridged the low ground are 
yet sound and intact, forming the foundation of the 
road bed. Before the whites came the road was the 
Indian trail from the Mohawk below Utica, directly 
through to Oneida lake. 



16 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS, 

Farther over on the eastern slope, north of what 
is now known as the Frederick Simmons' farm, there 
is a wide sweep of hillside mostly wooded, that 
reaches to the vicinity of Smith's Hill above noted. 
This extensive tract is seamed with deep ravines 
which open down into the Sauquoit valley, each the 
home of an old time trout brook. The writer well 
remembers when the virgin-forest covered all this 
region with a timber growth that betokens the richest 
of soils, as well as the favorite home of the wild birds 
and animals. The animals have mostly disappeared, 
but the birds still find their way to this favored spot, 
in great numbers. The spring carpet is so spangled 
with wild flowers that it seems the reflection of the 
brilliant plumage of the songsters flashing through 
the trees. Here a little later we shall find the 
thrushes, warblers, indigo birds, rose breasted gross- 
beaks and many others. In this connection it is 
curious how the birds seem to arrange for their 
summer campaign. Feathered neighborliness is with 
rule and without rule. In the open fields, the 
species keep to their appointed places and I judge 
this plan obtains in the woods. If a family of robins 
nest in my yard there may be several nests of other 
species, but no more robins on that acre. Part of 
the reason for this undoubtedly is the fact that 
families of different species use different food. The 



THE PARIS BERKSHIRE. 



17 



same pasture presents the variety and the birds 
know how to take advantage of it. Birds of long 
flight, like the wild pigeon, can easily nest together 
and seek their food over an entire state. All birds 
nest at the when and where of a plentiful supply of 
food for their young. This time would seem to be 
the bright summer tide, in every case ; but there 
are birds which build their nests and rear their 
young in midwinter. 

One of the family of finches which some times 
pays us a visit, nests in the northern forests in the 
winter. It finds the food for its young nicely stored 
in the great trees, and never fails of having a large 
supply. On the morning of April 9, the grackie 
and song-sparrow made their first bow in my yard, 
and seemed so perfectly at home that I could hardly 
realize that six months had passed since our last in- 
terview. Mr. Grackie threw down the gauntlet to 
Mr. Robin, and was met half way, just as they sa- 
luted each other a year ago. The story of the 
battle and the outcome will find its place in another 
paper. 



SWAMP LIFE. 

III. 

A bright, sunny morning full of April cheer, easily 
led my steps to the large wood and swamp just east 
of Paris Hill. A sharp frost the previous night had 
macadamized the deep snow that lay like a carpet 
over the entire ground, and I found no difficulty in 
threading the leafy aisles with ease and comfort. The 
early comers among the birds find this thicket of 
evergreen to their liking. Just at the door of the 
wood, the slope down from the village was alive 
with robins. As far as I could trace the bare sur- 
face skirting the swamp-side, the birds were flying, 
running, and uttering their sharp call as though all 
their welfare hung upon the moments then passing. 
There were hundreds of them, and nearly all that I 
saw were male birds. Perhaps part of the activity 
under my eye was the offspring of the joy that dwells 
in all hearts in the spring time, and part the ebb and 
flow of the tide of life that in a few days would dot 
all the land with happy robin homes. Seated on the 
old worm fence that I had known from boyhood, I 
tried for a little time to catch the import of robin's 



SWAMP LIFE. 



I 9 



call. If I understood it at all there was a sharp, 
quick word of wild joy and another of alarm that 
varied slightly from the former. Then a rattling fire 
of sounds that seemed at times a challenge to bat- 
tle, or a call to competition in a short, rapid flight. 
On the topmost bough of the tree near by one was 
pouring forth the notes of a full song, which curious- 
ly enough is interpreted in various ways, sometimes 
termed the rain song and again the greeting of the 
morning, or the salutation to the mate. At this 
particular time I fancied that a little of the music 
was in honor of the guest, all uninvited, but appre- 
ciated. Suddenly, as though all were animated by 
one spirit, the entire flock, with voices high pitched, 
scurried away to a bold point beyond the southern 
trend of the swamp. On from my fence seat, the 
way was over the high snow-banks that the west wind 
had sifted among the cedars Hard and firm, the 
path in any direction was almost in the tops of 
the trees. Descending toward the heart of the denser 
growth, I left the drifts behind, and found the carpet 
of white almost a yard in thickness over the entire 
surface. Here there was a hearty hand shake ex- 
tended to me by the chickadees and wood-peckers. 
The former are always ready with their greeting. Al- 
most always — winter and summer alike — a little bevy 
of half a dozen, more or less, will meet me at the 



2 o MY BIRD PA RISHWNERS. 

very door of the wood, and, though my stroll be long 
or short, they keep within sound and are the very 
last of the forest dwellers to say good-bye. 

What busy fellows they are, scarcely ever still for 
a moment. I have a notion that they are adepts in 
mingling play and work. Just at the far border of 
the swamp I discovered the home of a pair of chicka- 
dees. A little above my reach they had bored into 
a convenient tree, and were ready for the summer 
house-keeping. The woodpeckers and chickadees 
stay with us through the winter. Their storehouse 
of food is very nicely arranged for them. I opened 
the door of one in an open reach of the swamp and 
found it well stocked, though its supply had been 
drawn upon extensively. Curious how Mother Na- 
ture cares for her children. Here was a tamarack 
that in its dead and half decayed state was occupied 
by a large number of insects. Snugly folded away 
beneath the bark and in the wood, they waited the 
touch of the summer breezes to spring into a new 
and richer life. The birds had gone up and down the 
slender boll of the tree, and only here and there had 
a dweller escaped them. Whether there is any chance 
here for the survival of the fittest among the insects, 
I have no means of telling. 

A little farther on I came upon the winter road of 
the lumberman, and the opening here and there told 



SWAMP LIFE. 21 

of many a fine tree missing. I know the wants of 
man demand the trees, and that they must be sup- 
plied, but I do not enjoy the disfiguring of the fa- 
miliar wood-haunts, and I fancy my friends, the birds 
and animals, do not like it. In one of the little clear- 
ings the crows were holding a council — a political 
convention it may have been for aught I know. At 
all events it was a wordy time in crow parlance. 
" All at once," seemed to be the rule governing the 
speakers, and " Loud and long " was another rule 
equally prominent. So intent were they concerning 
their special business, that contrary to the usual way, 
I was almost in the open space before they knew of 
my approach. The instant, however, of the discovery 
every crow was in motion with voice and wings. Not 
one stayed upon the " order of his going,'' and I soon 
had the hall of the woods left entirely to my use. 

One of the trees that had been cut away was asso- 
ciated with an experience of mine some years ago. I 
had discovered a hawk's nest snugly located in the 
thickest part of the tree, and a short acquaintance 
with the old birds uncovered peculiarities of charac- 
ter well worth noting. I was sitting- near the nest one 
day watching the family so busy with home duties 
that I received not so much as a gleam of notice. 
The mother bird was feeding and caressing the young 
ones, and for an hour or more the male bird had not 



22 MY BIRD PA RISIIIONERS. 

been in sight. A little company of crows were for- 
aging in an open pasture on the old Moshier hillside. 
I heard them calling to each other, and soon the 
heavy flapping of wings announced their presence at 
the very door of our hawk's humble abode. One 
sable fellow carelessly blundered right into the nest. 
He had hardly touched it, however, when the male 
bird, with a sharp cry, darted forth from his hidden 
lookout, and at the first stroke tumbled the fright- 
ened crow fairly to the ground. The second stroke 
followed the first so quickly that the poor crow had 
time only to trundle away into the bushes, harrassed 
at every turn by the angry hawk. The hurried 
movement and awkward cries of the thoroughly 
frightened crow formed a most ludicrous scene, and 
I fancied that the crow spectators rather enjoyed 
their fellow's discomfiture. 

Finding my way along the wood road I came to 
the open side of the swamp, all nicely screened from 
the cool wind and flooded with the morning sun- 
shine. The song sparrows had gathered here in 
great numbers. Every bush held one or more, and, 
of course, every bush was bubbling over with music. 
Occasionally I caught the plaintive note of the wood- 
pewee, but the concert was almost entirely sparrows' 
own. I could detect three or four kinds, but the 
field or vesper sparrow predominated. Among the 



SI VAMP LIFE. 23 

notes of the open fields vesper has the honor of 
shaping the first and best. Like all other music, 
however, it is at its best when in its home place. 
In an old hillside pasture, just as the day closes, one 
gets the vesper song, clear, full, and at its sweetest 
strain. Sometimes a dozen singers will vie together 
as though it were their large duty to welcome the 
advent of darkness. I have heard the song when 
the darkness was too dense to discover the singer. 

Vesper is identified by the place he makes his 
home, as readily as by his song. After the season 
is fairly open he is found almost entirely in the fields. 
Another index to his species is the two white lateral 
tail feathers conspicuously displayed as he flies di- 
rectly from one. The nest is usually tucked away 
in some convenient bank or a cavity hollowed in a 
rich meadow sward. The coarser grass serves for 
the framework, but the lining is of finer threads 
which the birds weave into shape with skill and dis- 
patch. I know of no sound more quietly domestic 
than the sweet song of the vesper sparrow, just as 
the summer day is softly folded into night. One 
can easily fancy it the tender soul greeting of the 
spirit of the day, sung to the merry nymphs that 
sport and joy in the gloaming. 



WOODPECKERS. 

IV. 

There is reason for believing that the birds are 
unusually numerous this season. Several kinds have 
shown their numbers largely beyond any year that 
I now remember. It maybe that the supply of food 
is larger. More food, more birds. The earth worms 
in lawn and garden are most abundant and some 
kinds of insects' eggs, I notice, are plentiful. Robins, 
sparrows, larks and woodpeckers feast on the worms 
and insects, and are the kinds which swarm in our 
fields and groves. The common bluebird hardly 
seems represented. I have seen only one pair this 
spring. The meadow larks are on duty in large 
numbers. They come into the ttees of my yard 
and wind out their long, plaintive notes almost every 
day. This bird is an active, interesting fellow. His 
favorite position is the top of some tall tree standing 
out alone in the field. Frequently, as he runs be- 
fore me in the grass, I discover a likeness to the 
quail. His nest is hardly more than a slight hollow 
in the ground, made habitable by a meager lining of 
grass and leaves. Their flight is heavy, though 



WOODPECKERS. 



25- 



sometimes swift, and as they flutter down to the 
ground one is reminded of the bobolink. The male 
and female are quite similar in appearance, being 
mottled with brown and fawn color upon the head, 
back and wings, while the chin and breast are a 
bright yellow, the throat being crossed with a broad 
crescent shaped band of velvety black. 

Of the woodpecker species, I have seen more of 
the yellow hammer than I have in many seasons be- 
fore. This bird, though essentially of the wood- 
pecker family, differs from them in finding part of its 
food on the ground. H is list of local names is a long one. 
Besides the one named above he is called " flicker,'' 
■" yucker,'' " highhole," " wood robin " and " yellow 
winged woodpecker.' 1 Years ago I found the nest 
of this bird only in the large forest trees. Latterly 
I notice he enjoys the fields more. In the long rows 
cf maples on the Waterville road he is quite at home. 
He is not so particular as some of the other mem- 
bers of his family about boring into the decayed 
limbs of the trees for his nesting place. With his 
strong bill he easily shapes his house in the hard oak 
or maple limb, and once domiciled, is secure from 
most of his enemies. I know of no other bird that 
seems to enjoy the spring time with a richer relish 
than the yellow hammer. His peculiar but not un- 
pleasant call rings out over the fields and through the 



2 6 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

woods like a bugle note. A part of his cheerier 
pastime is found far up on the great limbs of a tall 
tree, in what appears to be a genuine bird game of 
hide and seek. It is surprising with what celerity 
he will dart up and down and around the tree. He 
has the advantage of the squirrel in the aid of his 
strong wings and sharp claws which adapt themselves 
readily to every change of position. 

One can easily determine the bird, not only by his 
call, but by his bright yellow color, also by the wavy 
motion of flight, and the large white spot displayed 
conspicuously on his back as he passes rapidly 
through the air. 

Another member of the woodpecker family- — the 
red-headed variety — seems to be disappearing. 
Formerly they were quite plentiful, numerous speci- 
mens being seen each season. This bird is justly 
celebrated for its brilliant plumage. The head and 
upper part of the neck are of a deep crimson, set off 
below by pure white, and above by a glossy steel 
blue. His natural food is insects, but he dearly loves 
different kinds of fruit, and is not at all averse to a 
feast of tender green corn In my boyhood the old 
farm had its row of cherry trees extending along the 
roadside well down to the great wood. Redhead 
levied tribute on the fruit, and almost all the first 
ripening were marketed by him. How easily and 



WOODPECKERS. 



27 



gracefully he would curve his way from the great 
maples, and what an insatiable appetife for the lus- 
cious red cherries he brought with him ! A little 
later we watched the members of the family as they 
took their first lessons in flying. Many a tumble and 
curve not laid down in the experience of the older 
birds marked the first efforts of the young learners. 
Very soon, however, they were adepts in the science, 
and, we noticed, were almost certain to make the first 
long flight to the old farm cherry trees. 

Of the smaller varieties of this species we have the 
yellow breasted woodpecker and the downy wood- 
pecker, or sap-sucker, as he is sometimes called. 
The yellow breasted is the larger, and like the red- 
head, seems to be disappearing in this section. 
Downy, while not as active as the larger kinds, is a 
favorite with most bird lovers. He rarely indulges in 
a long flight, and apparently takes little or no notice 
of visitors. It is an interesting scene in forest life to 
note the work done by this little fellow in the passing 
hour. A whiir of wings and he flashes by from some high 
point that he has reached on a neighboring tree, and 
alighting near the foot of a tall trunk, begins his 
search for the eggs and insects hidden there. Round 
and round he goes, looking into every cranny and 
crevice, working slowly up towards the top of the 
tree. Sometimes he hangs head downward under a 



28 MY BIRD PA RISHIONE RS. 

limb and ever and anon utters his peculiar note, 
which among all that I hear from the birds seems the 
richest in real contentment. I have known one a 
full hour in feeding over the pasture of a large tree. 
Sap- sucker, in his quiet way and cherry, patient note, 
is the bird of the forest. Dressed in his suit of gray, 
he harmonizes well with the color of the great tree 
trunks, and some way the single note of his homely 
song sounds like the breathing of the trees when the 
wind is playing through them on a quiet summer day. 
The larger member of the woodpecker family is found 
in the south and west. He is known as the ivory-bill 
and is truly a noble bird. His favorite resort is the 
tall pines and cypress of the vast swamps of the 
southwest. Wilson says : " Wherever he frequents 
he leaves numerous monuments of his industry be- 
hind him. We there see enormous pine trees with 
cart loads of bark lying around their roots, and chips 
of the trunk itself, in such quantities as to suggest 
the idea that half a dozen ax men had been at work 
there for the whole morning." I have seen the bird 
in his native haunts, and remarked the power with 
which he did his work. I never saw the nest, but am 
told that it is usually in a large cypress or cotton- 
wood tree. The plumage of this bird is mostly black, 
with slight shadings of blue. The head is surmounted 
by a crest of long flowing plumes, those falling over 



iro ODPECKERS. 2 9 

the forehead of a jetty black, while those of the hinder 
part are a brilliant crimson. The Indians made use 
of the brighter feathers for some of their decorations, 
and the smooth ivory-bill enters into the mysteries of 
the medicine man's incantations. Like his northern 
brethren, ivory-bill has no gleam of the instinct of 
migration in his nature. With the entire family food 
is plentiful, winter and summer alike, so they simply 
eat, drink and are merry, after the fashion of birds, 
which, like the " laws of the Medes and Persians," is 
a fashion that alters not as the years come and go. 



HAWKS. 



Occasionally we have the beautiful sight of a large 
number of hawks sailing high in the air, apparently 
taking a spring pastime. This morning while at 
work in my garden, I heard the peculiar cry of the 
hen-hawk repeated many times. It came down 
from far above me, and I soon located the place. 
Directly over my head, perhaps a mile high, several 
great birds were circling slowly through the air in 
broad sweeps, moving from right to left, steadily 
passing toward the west. It certainly was the morn- 
ing play of the birds, and never, at any other time 
of the day quite so striking and beautiful. The sun 
had not yet risen to me, but from the hawks, as they 
turned gracefully and without apparent motion of 
the wings, there was the flash of gold as from the 
surface of a great shield. I watched them several 
minutes before the sun was lifted into sight from 
where I stood. I never watch this movement of 
our great soaring birds without seeing new wonders 
in it. It is only the largest of our birds that can 
indulge in the recreation. Their large, but won- 



HA WKS. 



31 



derfully muscular and strong bodies are given the 
expanse of wing that when spread in the upper air 
seems to support the bird without any apparent ef- 
fort on his part. I have watched closely with a 
glass for many minutes at a time, and never detected 
the least sign of a vertical movement of the wings. 
The flight of the birds — of any of them — is always a 
profound mystery to me, but this soaring of the 
hawks is mystery of mystery. Some think that at 
that high elevation there is a strong wind blowing 
steadily so that the bird has only to set in position 
and keep there the broad expanse of wing, and sail 
the ocean of air as the ship sails the ocean of water. 
I have a fancy that this only half reveals the se- 
cret of the art, but the hidden portion I can not 
uncover. In fact, I enjoy the scene of the flight all 
the more for having the details largely veiled. But 
be that as it may, the soaring of the great birds far 
up in the blue dome is a vision of beauty. Each 
describes the arc of his own circle, but to the be- 
holder they seem to intersect and cross each other 
in bewildering succession. Very likely the birds 
are quite a distance apart, though to one standing 
below them, they appear to be on the same plane. 
Now and then the coterie I was watching would 
indulge in a series of aerial evolutions that would 
throw all the ordinary movements to the winds. By 



32 MY BIRD PA RISHIONERS. 

just a single motion, the bird would leave the cir- 
cling sweep, and dart, with incredible celerity, down 
through the great blue fields of air, until it seemed 
impossible for any ordinary strength to stay the 
flight. A slight movement of wing or body, however, 
would change the direction into a broad curve up- 
ward until nearly all the original height would be 
gained, which a few strokes of the great wings would 
complete, and the bird take his place with his fel- 
lows, cleaving the air quietly again as though noth- 
ing unusual had happened. Sometimes two or more 
of the hawks would make these side movements to- 
gether. Then the play would wax furious, and only 
the largest space would suffice for such marvelous 
sweeps of the great birds. For an hour or more 
they sailed and gamboled in my sight, then slowly 
faded from view far over toward College Hill. I am 
told that there are days in the fall of the year when 
the hawks assemble in such numbers that they are 
termed " hawk days.'' It is a new feature in the 
country side which I have not personally observed. 
The hawk is the freebooter of the birds. Like Ish- 
mael among his fellows, his hand is against every 
man and every man's hand against him. There are 
many varieties of this bird ranging in size from the 
little sparrow-hawk to the large hen-hawk. Of the 
larger size I do not observe as many as formerly, 



HA WKS. 



33 



though the smaller seem as numerous as ever. In 
the southwest, on the plains, I noticed several vari- 
eties not known in the east. One with the plumage 
nearly white was a handsome bird of the size of our 
large pigeon-hawk. The family on the great prairies 
conform nicely to the conditions, tucking their nests 
away in the crevices of the sides of the great canons 
which everywhere seam those vast plains. The nests 
of our species are placed in trees, and appear at a lit- 
tle distance like large bunches of fine sticks thrown 
together without much regard for order. Of neces- 
sity, there can be but little neatness in such a house, 
fed as the young are, with all kinds of small birds and 
animals. 

The mo§t active of the family that harbors with 
us is the pigeon-hawk. He bears several names, 
perhaps a confounding of varieties in the catalogue, 
such as American-hawk, sharp -skinned hawk, long- 
tailed hawk and others. He is easily distinguished/ 
however, by his rapid flight, and by the unusual 
length of the tail. The movement of this bird on the 
wing is like the rapid flight of the arrow. I have seen 
him secure birds of most of the smaller species in 
fair open flight. Frequently I have known him to 
pay a visit to the old farm, coming into the yard with 
the rush peculiar to his movements. Instantly all 
was commotion. The barnyard fowls betook them- 



34 



MY BIRD PARISHIONERS, 



selves to the sheds and secure places, but the poor 
doves fared harder. Sometimes before they could 
hide safely or secure protection in flight, one would 
fall into the talons of the bold depredator. It is not 
often, however, that the hawk will take the great 
risk of an attack on the farmyard. His hunting 
grounds usually are in safer places. It is a lesson in 
cunning and skill which the bird illustrates as he 
hunts in the open field. 1 have seen him hanging 
over a meadow searching with keen eye every inch of 
the grassy surface. Suddenly he would drop as the 
stone falls, and, striking the ground with a sharp thud, 
would arise almost instantly with some luckless 
mouse securely trapped in his strong talons. 

There is in country places much prejudice still ex 
isting against the entire family of hawks. Doubtless 
it is quite natural, as the birds of this species do 
feast now and then on the best chickens the farmer 
can furnish, and otherwise present traits of character 
which are not pleasant to contemplate, still they fill 
a place in the economy of Mother Nature's large 
household, which is of vast benefit to the tiller of the 
soil. A very large portion of the food of the hawk 
consists of vermin of all kinds, so that it may be truly 
said of him that he is an important scavenger of the 
fields which can not be spared. We can well afford 
to spread his table occasionally with choicer viands 



HA WKS. 



35 



than he is accustomed to have. Perhaps we can 
term such treatment a just return for many services 
which he unconsciously renders to the lords of crea- 
tion ; and would it not be a nice influence to throw 
around our boys, teaching them the blessed reciproc- 
ity of good for good, even to the action which seems 
a return of good for that which lifts its head and 
looks like evil ? 



BOBOLINK. 

VI. 

Bobolink saluted us first on the morning of the 
4th of May. The old rule of the country-side, 
" that bobolink appears with the first dandelion " has 
proven faulty this year. The dandelion had been in 
blossom more than a week when the bird gave notice 
that he was on summer duty again. I had been on 
the watch for him each morning, and more than once 
fancied the rollicking notes of his song were tumb- 
ling all around me. Watching for the singer, how- 
ever, did not empty the coming entirely of the ele- 
ment of surprise, nor detract in the slightest degree 
from the ripple and rush of this " anthem of the 
meadows." Formerly, as now, this bird seemed to 
study the effect of his advent. Working in my gar- 
den, with many a moment given to watching that 
splendid vision of " the new heavens and new earth," 
bobolink comes like a spirit of the morning and my 
first salutation is the glad song poured down upon me 
from the leafy coverts of the nearest tree top. 

This year and last he found his place in the wav- 
ing branches of a tall birch and the first note of his 



BOBOLINK. 



37 



song — that liquid, smooth flowing note — stopped all 
work and there was no renewal of the toil until the 
singer had responded to at least three encores. Each 
species of our spring and summer birds seems to 
represent some part or phase of nature. The bobo- 
link belongs to the meadows. His song is spangled 
like the meadows. It ripples and waves and tumbles 
as the grass does in the summer breeze. And the 
bird seems to have gotten all this imbedded in his 
very flight. Song and flight appear to be of one 
mind and heart. Most of our birds sing when 
perched in some fine place, and have hardly more 
than a single note to dispense when on the wing, 
but bobolink is the same free, joyous singer whether 
sitting or flying. I am utterly at a loss to know how 
the rush of merry notes finds place in that trim little 
black throat. I have known many attempts made to 
put the song in the black and white of the musical 
scale, but I have never heard voice or instrument 
that could render it as the bird does. It is a melody 
of most pleasing sounds which simply defies descrip- 
tion. To me it is the heart of the meadows enriched 
with sunshine and balmy air— the lush grass and per- 
fume of flowers, the dews and rains and the very 
essence of the melody of the other field birds. 

Bobolink has made some progress in civilization. 
He has his Florida where he spends his winters, and 
4 



3 S MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

the gentlemen of the tribe change the color if not 
the fashion of their dress twice during the year. For 
at least six weeks after the spring arrival the male 
bird pours out his unrivaled notes, then suddenly 
drops his hilarity and becomes the soberest of house- 
keepers. When carmg for the young the parent 
birds utter almost precisely the same note, and so far 
as I have observed, share equally in the home duties. 
About the last of August the old and young birds 
gather in great flocks — all now of the same color — 
and after a few days of merry sporting in the hedge- 
rows and fields, take up their journey toward the 
winter home. It is largely a mystery this journeying. 
When it begins, by what route it is prosecuted, whether 
by long or by short stages, who knows ? I have a notion 
that a portion of the flight is so high in the air that the 
naked eye can not reach the travelers, and also that 
the clear moonlight nights are pressed into service 
in forwarding the journey, but whether by night or 
by day, by easy or by long stages, they come in large 
numbers to the first stopping place among the great 
reed marshes of Pennsylvania. 

Here they frolic and feast until they attain to 
double the size of the bird we know in the northern 
meadows. Thousands are trapped and shot, and the 
flesh is considered the great delicacy of the season. 
From here they complete the journey, and we find 



BOBOLINK. 



39 



them a little later snugly domiciled in the rice fields 
of the far south. No one would imagine that our 
singer was hidden under the brown coat of one of 
these rice gormandizers, but there he is and except 
the common chirp of his species, makes no sound. 
All winter long he feasts and plays right in the very 
heart of the sunny southland never opens his mouth 
to utter the semblance of one of his bubbling notes. 
Just why a new coat should loosen his tongue in song 
I can hot tell— in fact I do not believe it does. What 
an old farmer friend of mine — dead and gone now 
— called the " glorious bursting forth of our spring- 
time " seems to set the songs free. Then of course 
there is mixed with this the influence of that nuptial 
chant which is the " light on our land and sea ,? in 
the glad springtime. 

Bobolink has a heart, and he uses it, too, and 
when he falls to loving he falls to singing, like many 
a swain of other name and nature. But even with 
all the influences counted that we can reach, I 
can not understand why for ten or eleven months of 
the year he should be silent, only trilling his glad 
song a meager six weeks out of the fifty-two. His 
favorite resort is some meadow hillside sloping to 
the east, flanked by an old apple orchard. A bough 
of the apple tree, or some large stone out in the 
field, is the resting spot from which he tells of the 



4° 



MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 



joy that thrills him. The nest, like that of the other 
ground birds, is securely lodged in some slight cavity 
of the meadow surface. He shows some skill and 
taste in construction, though these are evidently sec- 
ondary in bobolink's idea of architecture. 

The young don the sober winter attire of the 
parent birds, and make no change until the follow- 
ing spring brings them to their northern homes. 
Years ago an uncle of mine, of scientific turn of mind, 
conceived the idea that the bobolink not only 
changed the color of his plumage, but also the fibre 
of his character. His theory was that our snow 
buntings were bobolinks masquerading under their 
white waistcoats during the winter months, easily 
turning back to the old brown and black when the 
springtime came. He captured some of the bunt- 
ings and kept them through the year, and while his 
knowledge was increased by his experience, one of 
his pet theories was entirely dissipated. Irving, in 
his celebrated article telling bobolink's qualities, 
good and bad, writes that in his freedom and glad- 
ness of song, he was the envy of every school boy 
for miles around. Surely our author might have 
written that the merry singer moved to envy a much 
wider field of hearts. Certainly admiration and de- 
light follow him, wherever he goes, when he is really 
at his best. 



BOBOLINK. 4 1 

His welcome has not even a gleam of anything 
narrow and selfish in it. He sings all there is of 
him into his song. He makes it a voice cheerily in- 
terpreting the great meadow nature of our hills and 
vales. He makes it all laugh and sing, and we 
laugh and sing with him. 



THE SWALLOW. 

VII. 

The different species of summer birds, with the 
exception of one or two kinds are all present in their 
northern haunts, (May 1 8th). The cuckoo and the wax- 
wing, and possibly some of the wood birds, have not 
yet arrived. The swallow family is in its place, and 
active, as it always is. We have three species of 
the true swallows, — the barn, clfff and eave swallows. 
The bird usually termed the chimney swallow does 
not belong to the swallow family, but is closely 
allied to the swift or night-hawk species. Songless 
as this large family is, still they are by no means 
unattractive. They are given the almost faultless 
grace of flight. Their place of beauty is on the 
wing, and it is only at rare intervals that they are 
found at rest during the day time. The barn swal- 
low fastens his nest in soma convenient place high 
up among the rafters of the old barn. He skillfully 
commands the mud of the roadway, dried grass, and 
the tiny feathers of the farm yard, and with many a 
deft swallow touch, shapes them all into a bird-house 
of no little strength and beauty. The old time 



THE SWALLOW. 43 

barns were made with the swallow hole cut in the end 
high up near the point of the roof. In and out of 
these openings the birds would dart the livelong day, 
and not seldom would the boy, hot and dusty, tramp- 
ing hay in the great mows, envy the swallow's glad, 
free life. The song of this bird is hardly more than 
a gentle twitter, uttered usually, when sitting at rest. 
Most of the swallow's flight is sobered with work, 
though now and then I think it is lifted into pas- 
time. Anyone who has seen a little company of 
these birds on a bright summer evening taking their 
daily bath, will understand what I mean. Just at 
the corner of the wood which covers Smith Hill all 
down its southern slope, is cradled a little pond. 
One of the delights of my boyhood was the swim- 
ming parties which gathered here on the warm sum- 
mer evenings. Often I would precede the boys an 
hour or more, and from a cozy nook of the wood 
side, watch the swallows as they came in troops of 
a dozen or more to their daily ablutions. With 
what grace they would curve down from the hills 
on either side, and sweep along the surface of the 
water! Now and then the wings would dip like oars, 
and anon the body would drop below the surface for 
an instant, and then emerge, scattering the water in 
pearly drops far and wide. Over and over the bath 
would be repeated, and the birds would hie away to 



44 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

the great barn, their little bodies glistening like 
blades of grass polished with the morning dew. 

The eave swallow differs from the barn swallow in 
many ways. They are easily distinguished by the 
whiter breasts and by the shorter and squarer tail. 
Years ago this branch of the family was largely rep- 
resented here. Some of the large barns were 
thronged by hundreds of the birds. At Harvey 
Head's they found a nesting place to their liking. 
All along under the eaves of the barn, the nests were 
crowded like so many ant hills, thrust into place 
with an opening left just at the top. When the 
nests were building the birds came and went in a 
stream that flowed without ceasing all day long. 
The craft of the mason was called into vogue, and 
the house firmly, if not handsomely built. When 
completed, and the mothers' " at home " fully estab- 
lished, it was quite a social scene. The callers, I 
expect, were the happy husbands of the many wives, 
and though the coming and going were unbroken 
all the day, there seemed to be no confusion or lack 
of bird courtesy anywhere. It was a happy family, 
and the farmer above named found happiness in the 
birds' happiness. He provided a shelf nicely 
adapted to the birds' wants, and they repaid him a 
hundred fold in clearing the farm of troublesome 
insects. I am told that these swallows have dis- 



THE SWALLOW. 45 

appeared from their former haunts, and one asks the 
question, " Where have they gone ?" The farmer 
ought to ask it and press it to an answer pretty 
strongly. If the why of absence can be reached 
and removed, it surely ought to be done. My own 
opinion is that it is one of those movements of birds 
brought about by a variety of causes, for some of 
which man is to blame, that will be removed eventu- 
ally, and the birds find their way to the old homes 
again. 

The cliff swallow seems to differ but little from 
the eave swallow. Naturalists, I believe, class them 
as one family ; still it seems to me there is a distinc- 
tion. The nests of the cliff swallow are formed in a 
cliff or bank of sand. A hole is bored horizontally 
for several inches, then widened to sufficient size for 
the nest. It forms a very safe retreat from the birds' 
many enemies, though the wash of the bank some- 
times brings destruction upon the entire village. 

The chimney swallow, or swift, more correctly 
named, is a bird that ought to be familiar to all. It 
is almost the single bird family that comes into our 
houses to make its home. The chimney is its favor- 
ite nesting place, though the old hollow tree, open at 
the top, will serve its purpose. Its nest is a rude 
structure fastened to the side of the chimney by some 
glutinous substance which the bird manufactures for 



46 M Y BIRD PA RISHIONERS. 

the purpose. The architecture of the nest can well 
be rude, as it is built where it is seldom seen, though 
why it should not be stronger is a problem that my 
boyish thought frequently sought to solve. Every 
year the nests of the swallows were hung in the 
chimney of the old farm house, and almost every year ' 
some of them would come down with all the precious 
freight of young birds nearly grown. The subdued 
twitter behind the old kitchen fireboard would be our 
first notice of the disaster. Removing the board 
would show us the young family winking and blinking 
in the soot and ashes, and vainly endeavoring to 
clamber up the smooth back of the fireplace. A lit- 
tle help from the children would tide over the diffi- 
culties of starting, and we would soon have the satis- 
faction of seeing them far up the chimney side, 
where they would meet the old birds and set up for 
the remaining chimney days a rude sort of houseless 
housekeeping that finally brought them all to the free, 
glad life of the upper air. This bird has no equal in 
the realm of flight. For swiftness, grace and beauty 
it is all unrivaled. How it can pass and repass, de- 
scribe its broad curves, rise far away into the open 
blue, or drop and skim along the meadow surface all 
day long on its rapid flight, how this can be with that 
little body and wings, is to me die profoundest of 
mysteries. Without any question his daily flight is 



THE SWALLOW. 



47 



hundreds of miles, and when he takes his last evening 
pastime before descending into the old chimney he 
seems in freshness " to bring back immaculate the 
manners of the morn. r Sometime in the last of August 
the swallows leave us and betake themselves to the 
far away tropics for their winter outing. No doubt 
storms and other vicissitudes greatly deplete their 
numbers, but each spring enough find their way back 
to gladden our summer time with the wondrous 
grace and beauty of their marvelous flight. 



WOOD NOTES. 

VIII. 

Our wood birds are now well domiciled in their 
northern haunts, (May 28). They evidence excellent 
judgment in selecting their summer homes. The hill, 
sloping nicely to the east, is their favorite resbrt. I 
have a half notion that they not only like the warmer 
eastern exposure, but have some taste in selecting 
the broad, open outlook. All along the range of 
our " Paris Berkshire, 1 ' where it dips toward the beau- 
tiful Sauquoit valley, the wood birds find their ideal 
home. The old Butler farm two miles east of Sau- 
quoit village, seems to furnish all the conditions ol 
a bird paradise. Sixty acres and more of the west- 
ern portion of the farm were cleared a few years ago. 
Part of this tract was allowed to grow up again with 
a rich variety of forest trees, and part was gradually 
brought into use as a large side hill pasture. The 
pasture is dotted here and there with clumps of 
young trees reaching back to the wooded tract, the 
whole forming abroad surface about equally divided 
between the higher shelf or plateau, and the slope 
reaching down to the valley below. The view from 



WOOD NOTES. 49 

any part of this section is extremely tine, embracing 
the wide expanse of the Sauquoit valley, from the 
gateway near New Hartford, far up to the bend of 
the hills, where the creek comes tumbling down from 
the Summit Springs. The writer asks his readers to 
take a stroll with him through this great park and 
note some of its feathered denizens which flash and 
love and sing in its truly beautiful bowers. My fa- 
vorite approach is along the high ground on the back 
part of the old Wicks farm. From thence is a sharp 
descent of a hundred feet and more, to the western 
gate of the large grove. At my last visit the saluta- 
tion at the gate was that gem of bird melody, the 
song of the thrush. It came in that peculiar, fasci- 
nating trill that once heard is never forgotten, and 
as surely can not be described. In it is the heart 
of the sylvan aisles, all shaped and toned as one 
would wish the wood to sing to him. Again and 
again the song was repeated, all of it hushed, how- 
ever, as I climbed down from the old fence and 
threaded my way slowly among the trees. 

What a sly fellow the thrush is! I just caught 
sight of this one's slender form as he rapidly slid 
away into the deeper recesses of the wood. A little 
later I shall find him with his mate, well set up in 
housekeeping, and, of course, not quite so shy. 
Here at the edge of the pasture I catch the song of 
5 



5 o MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

a bird which savors not a little of the open fields. 
The little tree in the open glade is the stage from 
which the singer pours forth his rich melody. 
Perched on the very top of the tree, he sings away 
into the blue air above him as though his very life 
depended on the song being done quickly, and well 
done too. It is the little bluefinch or sparrow — 
sometimes called the indigo bird. The plumage is 
a rich indigo blue throughout, and, like the song, 
flashes in the sunlight as though it came out of the 
deep blue of the far away sky. The nest, no doubt, 
was somewhere near, but I was too busy watching 
the many wood dwellers to look it up then As I 
came down to the rude fence near the old wood 
road, a bird glided by me that I quickly recognized 
as the rose-breasted grosbeak. A little rain was 
falling, but with some indication of breaking away, 
and I knew that the advent of the sun again would 
loosen all the birds' tongues in song. The flash of 
the sunlight was the signal, and the song I was wait- 
ing for came almost instantly, with a dozen others. 

I moved down to the edge of the pasture and 
there in the full light of the sun the bird sat, pouring 
forth a song that was rich with the witchery of bird 
music. On the white breast flashed the spot of crim- 
son which gives the bird its name, and it almost 
seemed as though its fellows did reverence to the 






WOOD NOTES. 



5 1 



singer, both on account of its beauty and its song. 
It is only occasionally that I discover this bird, and 
the day that reveals him is one marked with red let- 
ters in my calendar. A little farther on down on the 
border of the great ravine which seams the pasture 
and grove deeply on the northern side, I saw a bright 
flash of red among the great trees that here have not 
been cut away. It was that beauty of our forest 
glades, the scarlet tannager. Formerly the tannager 
was common to all our groves-: now I find him but 
rarely. I think myself fortunate if I discover a single 
specimen during the season. With his wings and 
tail of jetty black, and body clothed in the most 
brilliant and glowing scarlet, the tannager stands all 
unrivaled for beauty of plumage among our many 
birds. He builds a shapely nest, but of such slight 
materials that the light may easily be seen through 
it. One would hardly imagine the female in her 
sober coat of pale green to belong to the same fam- 
ily. What she lacks in beauty, however, is made up 
in affection for her young. Hardly any other of out- 
forest birds equal the tannager in care for the nest- 
lings. Several of our naturalists speak of this char- 
acteristic as remarkable. 

While watching the tannager I heard at the edge 
of the clearing the peculiar chirp of a bird that seems 
the busy fellow of all the wood songsters. I walked 



52 



MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 



quietly to a point near some low bushes and soon 
discovered the object of my search, the little Ameri- 
can redstart. Among the large family of wood- 
warblers, I should place the redstart first in point of 
activity and not excelled in beauty of plumage. I 
find them altogether too busy to pay much attention 
to me, so in watching them I can often draw so near 
as almost to touch them. I discovered this pair had 
their nest in a low bushy tree, evidently just the be- 
ginning of housekeeping. The male bird had but 
few home duties to look after, so he showed me how 
the redstart works and plays. He would push his 
way up among the thick branches, searching almost 
every twig and leaf for insects, until at some favor- 
able opening he would turn a somersault into the 
air, which I thought was play, until I heard the little 
bill snap and discovered that the side excursion was 
a business foray into the midst of a bevy of flies. 
The very work of such a bird is done with a zest that 
seems to be nothing but play. 

The trophies of the chase in redstart's realm must 
be many hundreds every day. The beauty of this 
bird's markings distinguishes him in the warbler 
family — the deep black which is the predominating 
color, contrasting finely with the streaks and bands 
of orange and vermillion on the sides, wings, and tail. 
Going down into the deep ravine I picked my way 



WOOD NOTES. 



53 



carefuly along the picturesque bank of a little brook 
that tumbles down from the pasture above. Here 
was less of bird life, but a lavish profusion of plants 
and flowers. I saw signs that the raccoon was at 
home in this secluded spot, and under the roots of 
an upturned tree was the well chosen home of the 
red fox. Long ago the fish disappeared from the 
brook, and some of the larger trees lie moldering in 
the damp, almost sunless, retreats of the steep hill- 
side. But someway there was a luxury of enjoy- 
ment, lying on the mossy bank of the murmuring 
stream, and looking away through the green leafy 
avenues up to the broad ocean of blue that seemed 
so far off from the bottom of the ravine. Some chim- 
ney swallows and two or three crows passed leisurely 
over the roadway of the upper air, but seemed almost 
wierd-like in the blue haze of distance. Why not a 
little touch of " Distance lends enchantment to the 
view ?" 



ROBINS AND BLACKBIRDS. 
IX. 

June i st, sitting on my porch just as the sun was 
sinking low in the western sky, the evening song of a 
great variety of birds was borne to my ear. It came from 
all sides, and I was curious to know how many species 
of the feathered songsters were represented in the 
large choir. In the yard near by I readily detected 
the following varieties : Robin, bluebird, grackle, 
kingbird, large and small flycatcher, wren, yellow 
warbler, vireo, small tree sparrow, vesper sparrow, 
purple crown sparrow, yellow bird, bobolink, lark, 
cuckoo, oriole, chimney and barn swallow, and farther 
away, from the swamp side, .came the harsh notes of 
the jay and crow — more than twenty varieties in all. 
It was just the hour when the farmer, wearied with 
the heat and burden of the long day, was taking the 
comfort of the easy chair. What music, I thought, 
is given to rest and cheer in this concert of the birds. 
The ear may not be trained to catch the secret of its 
power, and it may be there is no conscious recogni- 
tion of the influence, but there it is, filling the evening 
quiet with what seems like the soft low notes of the 



ROBINS AND BLACKBIRDS. 55 

parting day. Every soul is better for the song, and 
all nature, animate and inanimate, is enriched by it. 
As the song was dying away with the coming of the 
darkness, the lawn directly at my door was the scene 
of one of those bird contests that, I suppose, occur 
much oftener than we know. 

Just at the cemetery gate, a few hundred yards be- 
low the rectory^ in a dense evergreen, is the nesting 
place of a pair of blackbirds. They set up first as 
housekeepers on the rectory lawn, and the very be- 
ginning of their enterprise was the signal for war. A 
pair of enterprising robins had preempted a claim in 
that spot, and near by, on the church lot, another 
family of robins was snugly domiciled, while a little 
farther down near the school house, still another pair 
had their home. I think blackbird could have made 
fair headway against a single pair of his enemies, but 
when they joined forces and brought in the yeoman 
of three distinct settlements there was nothing left for 
him to do only to abandon his half built house and 
take up a new claim. This he did with much pro- 
testing, and many a return for a short, free, spirited 
battle. I noticed in their battles that the forte of 
each party was the surprise. Blackbird would steal 
quietly along the line of trees at the roadside, and if 
he found robin napping, which was rarely the case, 
would fly full tilt against him, strike him sharply with 



5 6 MY B TRD PA R ISHIONERS. 

his long dirk -like bill, then hie away with many a 
chuckle. This game was played until robin adopted 
the plan of summoning his neighbors with a few 
quick, sharp notes, and the whole trio of families 
would cross the border and fairly hunt their enemy 
down. Victories among the birds are " on the side 
of the heaviest cannon." I noticed that the feud be- 
tween these families grew as the young birds got 
large enough to need constant care. Sorne way, 
then, all the " Old Adam " in the parent birds waked 
up and waxed hot and furious. The blackbird got 
his nestlings ready for light a little sooner than the 
robin. Like all young birds just out of the nest, they 
went blundering around from place to place until 
finally, after an unusually long flight, one of the 
young grackle dropped upon my lawn hardly ten feet 
from the door. One of the old birds came with it, 
and the. ad vent of these two innocent looking bipeds 
was the signal for a conflict, or, rather, succession of 
conflicts, that lasted until darkness dropped its cur- 
tain and shut the eyes of the warriors. 

The two robins tenting just at the house corner, 
began the fray. They gave their peculiar war cry, 
nnd followed it with front, side, and rear attacks 
that were fairly bewildering. It looked like a minia- 
ture case of the u Balaklava cannon," in the cele- 
brated ride of the six hundred. But the strategy of 






ROBINS AND BLACKBIRDS. 



57 



Captain Blackbird was without a flaw. He piloted 
his little dusky charge across the lawn with marvel- 
ous skill, and before he was aware of it, found him- 
self in the domain of the church robins. Like a 
fresh relay, they took the place of the first pair, and 
in much the same manner, escorted the intruders to 
the door of the school house yard. There the pair 
that were " lord of all they surveyed " from the low 
cornice of the old school house, came quickly into 
the contest. Their drum-beat was like the others, 
and the blows they struck much the same. Steadily, 
however, blackbird held on his way, and as the night 
fell, came out of the trying ordeal safe and sound, 
and I said: "Why not this a genuine 'Anabasis.' 
Xenophon and his ten thousand getting surely on 
and out of the enemy's country." The next morn- 
ing the village school mistress discovered the " rank 
and file" of this masterly retreat snugly ensconced in 
the deep grass at the roadside, none the worse, ap- 
parently, for the trying experience of the evening 
before. In one form or another this battle will be 
repeated in birddom all the season through ; and the 
observer can not very well avoid propounding the 
query : " Why is this ? Why should these dwellers 
in our groves and fields live in a state of war ?" 
Surely there is room and food enough for them all. 
There is nothing to be gained by it that 1 can see, 



8 MY BIRD PA RISHIONERS. 

only that it puts each bird on the keenest and most 
vigorous kind of duty, and the conflicts call into 
requisition every faculty of the warriors, and of 
course, make the combatants stronger, if not better. 
Among our song birds proper I have noticed that 
the contest is usually between birds of nearly the 
same size. The large and small do not quarrel very 
much, except in cases where the birds of prey enter 
into the contest. I surmise that the fiercer fights 
like this between the blackbird and robin are incited 
largely from the fact that one of the parties works 
direct injury to the other, either upon the eggs or 
the young. I have noticed the blackbird lurking 
about robin's house, and I am pretty sure his errand 
boded no good to the nestlings of redbreast's home. 
My neighbor, who is a close observer, avers that he 
has seen the marauder sucking and destroying the 
eggs. He does not hesitate to speak some sharp 
words through his breech loader, all of them in- 
tended to make blackbird a better creature, as Sheri- 
dan's Indians were transformed. I find myself, 
however, loth to interfere in any of the battles which 
the birds set in motion. 

My hesitancy is partly due to the fact that I know 
so little about the cause of the quarrel that it is not 
at all easy to tell which party is really entitled to 
my assistance, and partly to the other fact that my 



ROBINS AND BLACKBIRDS. 



59 



best offices, when freely proffered, as a rule, only 
seem to make matters worse. 

Just as I reached this point, an old army comrade 
dropped in to spend the day with me. His home 
is snugly tucked away at the foot of the Clayville hills, 
and he knows the birds and loves them. We found 
time to talk them over, sitting under the wide 
spreading apple tree of the open yard. The battle 
of blackbird and robin was the subject, when lo ! 
the chuckle of the black fellow was just at our side. 
A moment later we discovered that his business 
was of a very practical character. In the evergreen 
near by, the foundation of his house was laid, and I 
suppose a few days more will see it completed. 
Clearly enough, the story I have been telling will be 
repeated ; that is, if robin sets up housekeeping near 
by, which he is very likely to do. If in the passage 
at arms there should be any new tactics worthy of 
record, I will try and save it in some future article of 
this chronicle of our feathered friends. 



ORIOLES. 
X. 

Some years a single pair of orioles nest in the 
large trees near the rectory. This year three fam- 
ilies of these birds are housekeeping within a radius 
of two or three hundred yards. In the early morn- 
ing frequently the citizens of this realm hold a public 
meeting in my yard. I have no means of knowing 
just how they notify the different members of the 
council, but I have a notion that one or two of Mas- 
ter Oriole's clear notes would reach every member 
without much difficulty. At any rate the summons 
goes out and the birds hear and heed. It may be 
that questions of vast moment in birdland are dis- 
cussed at these gatherings. I can not interpret the 
speeches word for word, but the spirit of the meeting 
speaks for itself. As the members all talk at once 
it is evidently a go-as-you-please convention. But, 
all levity aside, this morning talk of the orioles is 
one of the bright things in the rectory yard and is 
well worth a 4 o'clock waking to hear. The oriole 
is perhaps the most attractive in appearance of all 
our field and orchard birds. His suit of bright yel- 



ORIOLES. 6 1 

low, tastefully ornamented with glossy black, be- 
comes his slender form well, and the rich notes of his 
song, like one of the bird's names, are golden. 

I know of no other bird of his size that excels him 
in activity. The large apple tree in my yard is a 
favorite hunting ground for oriole. I frequently take 
a convenient seat and watch the operation. Per- 
haps the morning hunt has the most of the zest of 
sport in it. The male bird is the sportsman — the 
female I have never seen on duty in this way — and 
the skill displayed is perfect after its kind. The 
twigs and limbs are all traversed and re-traversed. If 
a bug or a fly is overlooked it seems purely an acci- 
dent. The fly-catchers proper will dart into the air 
quite a distance in securing their prey, but oriole 
reaches his with but very little use of the wings. The 
movement by which he traps the fly seems very sim- 
ilar to the plan of the common garden toad. As I 
see it, he appears to impale the insect with the sharp 
point of the tongue. There is a quick motion of 
the head and from the open bill a flash of bright 
red, and the game disappears in the blaze as though 
consumed on the instant. All my interviewing has 
not yet quite determined just how it is done. A 
little later in the season, however, I find this bird 
busy in a work which has no hidden stroke. When 
the tent caterpillar or apple tree worm has folded 



62 MY BIRD PA RISHIONERS. 

himself away in his little cocoon house and doubt- 
less feels perfectly safe, oriole improves the op- 
portunity to make him useful in a manner not laid 
down in the natural experience of caterpillars. I 
have seen the search of the bird go on for hour 
after hour all along the fence and underneath the 
clapboards of the house and in the old abandoned 
nests on the trees, so that each day he must destroy 
a great number of the worms. I think from my ob- 
servation that this forms the principal food of the 
young of the oriole. One other bird — the little tree 
sparrow — I notice, shares in this feast, and the two 
together, I judge, are the principal means of keep- 
ing in check this pest of the apple tree. 

The nest of the oriole is admirably constructed, 
especially that of the species known as the Baltimore 
oriole. I am told that in the south he hangs it on 
the north side of the tree, but in the north it is usu- 
ally swung from some pendent limb on the south side, 
where for a part of the day at least the sun can fill it 
with warmth and light. It is woven with rare skill, 
all sorts of strings and bits of bark being used in the 
construction. I have seen it suspended from the 
long swinging branch of the elm or maple, the mother 
bird sitting in perfect safety as the wind rocks and 
sways her half aerial cradle. Frequently this bird 
will nest close to the house where busy men and 



ORIOLES. 63 

women go in and out day after day, and never dream 
that tenants at will are snugly fixed at their very doors. 
Sitting with a friend at the step of the house door, a 
slight sound called my attention to the swing- 
ing branch almost brushing the house directly over 
my head. A single glance revealed the pouch-like 
nest half concealed by a bunch of leaves that in a 
heavy wind would almost touch the house. The 
young apparently were half grown, and the happy 
householders were busy feeding four hungry fledglings 
that seemed never to have enough. I have a half 
notion that the nest of this bird, swaying m the 
slightest breeze, is a sort of preparatory school where- 
in the baby orioles are given some lessons in flight 
which forwards them wonderfully in that grace of mo- 
tion. 

The orchard oriole is the single other branch of 
this family that favors us with its visits. The name 
is derived from the fact that it generally nests in the 
apple orchard, and finds most of its food in that pas- 
ture. It differs from its Baltimore cousin in wearing 
a dress sobered almost to a reddish brown, and in the 
construction of its nest. The nest of this bird hangs 
like the vireos, from some convenient fork of the 
smaller limbs, and while it is strong and firmly built, 
it has but little of the tasty appearance of the other 
species. The orioles are not only general favorites 



6 4 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

on account of their brilliant plumage, but widely wel- 
comed as singers of no mean order. Oriole's song, 
however, is celebrated rather for the sweetness of the 
notes than for any particular prolonged melody, like 
the song sparrow or the bobolink. As it comes to us 
first with the apple blossoms, it seems to interpret in 
some way the pink and white of these gems of the 
orchard. The two or three notes slide into each 
other almost imperceptibly as the shades of color 
blend on the petals of the flowers, and though re- 
peated many times during the day, never tire the 
listeners, in fact, are only restful as the senses find 
joy over and over in the beauty and fragrance of the 
orchard flowers. 

A little episode of genuine bird scolding, closely 
associated with oriole, has been one of the daily 
scenes witnessed in my yard. A little fly-catcher had 
brought his mate, and together they had put their 
cabin in a safe fork of the apple tree, and so far as I 
could see, were quite happy in their domestic bliss. 
I noticed nothing unusual in the bird life of the yard 
until the advent of the orioles. The moment they ap- 
peared was the signal, not for war, for there was no 
fighting — but for an outburst from my family of fly- 
catchers of the most vigorous kind of bird scolding* 
The noisy jargon was poured out with great vigor, 
and as oriole paid no attention to it, I concluded that 



ORIOLES. G - 

either he did not understand it, or it being entirely un- 
called for on the part of the small neighbor, was best 
mended by being unnoticed. 

I have never seen the oriole in any way trench- 
ing on the fights of his smaller neighbor, yet he 
never appears in the rectory yard without fly-catcher 
and his wee bit of a wife, filling the air with a storm 
of the hottest kind of bird protests. Oriole, as I 
have said, pays no attention to it, so I half surmise 
that it is a sort of pastime for him, and perhaps fly- 
catcher finds some fun in berating his big brother 
where there is not the least bit of danger of any sharp 
return stroke. Now and then, as in the above, I 
find the birds human enough so that I make a note 
of it, and wonder whether it is one of the many rifts 
in the cloud which, for the time being, hides a fel- 
lowship that lies along the wide relation of all life. 



THE HUMMINGBIRD. 
XI. 

The largest family among the birds is the one of 
the smallest individual members. The humming 
bird is so small and of such delicate structure, that 
one hardly feels like classing it among the birds at 
all. The flight is almost literally a flash through the 
air. How that little body can be propelled at such 
marvelous speed is one of the profound problems of 
bird motion. The most rapid of our railroad trains 
can not equal this little creature as it darts away 
through the gardens and fields. The ordinary flight, 
I believe, is rated at nearly a hundred miles an hour. 
The strokes of the tiny wings defy all following with 
the eye, and the humming sound emitted gives the 
bird its name. 

This bird's method of taking its food sets at defi- 
ance all rules of quiet, easy feasting. He takes all 
his meals on the wing. Just how he balances him- 
self so nicely on those vibrating levers, and touches 
the right spot in the flower with his long slender bill, 
is a secret that I can not uncover. As I see it, 
however, it is done with dispatch and apparent ease. 



THE HUMMING BIRD. 67 

Surely, it is the feast delicate among all the wide 
tables spread for our feathered friends. The wonder 
is how the little body holds so many sips. Two va- 
rieties visit and nest with us, though I think the little 
ruby-throat is gradually becoming our single repre- 
sentative of this great family. Naturalists tell us 
that this order of birds includes over 400 varieties. 
They are widely distributed, but essentially deni- 
zens of the tropics. 

I am told that on some of the mountains in Cen- 
tral America, ten or twelve different kinds have 
been discovered, all of them nesting there, and mak- 
ing that one place their home. It is a curious fact 
that of this largest family of birds so few have been 
moved by the instinct of migration. Throughout 
the entire United States I believe only seven varie- 
ties have been found, and these only as summer 
visitors, even in the far sunny south." Belonging, as 
this bird does, to the tropics, he puts on the bril- 
liant attire that is characteristic of that favored re- 
gion. Our own tiny visitor — the ruby-throat — 
though one of the least conspicuous of the entire 
family, has some touches of brilliant color. He 
seems to reflect the brightness of the flowers among 
which he passes most of his active life. I have no- 
ticed in my garden that ruby-throat comes in almost 
entirely by the same door. I hear the whirr of 



68 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

wings, and I know just where to look for the visitor. 
His flight is down from the old church, as though 
right out of the morning sun just peeping over the 
roof. Very likely his nest is in the orchard on the 
eastern side of the village, and he sets a good ex- 
ample in this first movement of the day churchward. 
At any rate that is the way he comes, and the going 
is always a flash out over the old schoolhouse away 
to the pine grove beyond. Some writers telbus that 
part of the food of the humming bird is the minute 
insects that the bird readily sees and secures, though 
they are almost too small for the human eye to detect. 
I have never been sure, from my observation, that 
this is true. I hear the snap of the tiny bill, but that 
it means the trapping of the fly is not so certain. 
Sipping the nectar of the flowers, why shouldn't the 
happy fellow bring his bill together as the boy 
smacks his lips over the sweets that relish with the 
keenest delight ? Some way it seems to me more in 
keeping with this bird's size and character, that it 
should live on the rich juices of the flowers. A 
blossom of the blossoms, part of the " house beauti- 
ful," so its every word out of the mouth of God, the 
very fragrance of life. Of all this great family it is 
written " practically songless. v Occasionally one 
hears from them a sound that is the faint imitation 
of bird-song, just a thin, prolonged, single note. 



THE HUMMING BIRD. 69 

The nest is a gem of bird architecture. I have 
seen but one, and that long years ago. 

My brother and I, taking the daily frolic in the 
orchard on the old farm, came upon the little house, 
hardly larger than an acorn cup. It was fastened to 
the limb of the tree, and in color was so like the 
limb that it was only by accident that we discovered 
it. It was marked by great delicacy of structure, and 
held two tiny white eggs not much larger than our 
smallest peas. Curiosity satisfied, we left the pair 
to the orchard quiet. A day or two later, however, 
some enemy invaded ruby's home, and we lost our 
opportunity for a more extended acquaintance with 
this most interesting bird. 

The humming bird is a great lover of freedom. 
The wild, free life of the fields and gardens is the 
home to his perfect liking. I do not know of a single 
instance where he has lived more than a few 
weeks in confinement. Occasionally it is well to put 
the prison bars about some of our feathered friends. 
Interesting facts are uncovered in this way, but at 
best it does not give information of the richest char- 
acter. The bird in confinement is only the shadow 
of a bird. The limitations forced upon him chill his 
spirit and cramp all his movements. Under such 
conditions he can not be himself, for all is second- 
hand. Some way his entire life is ever saying to 



70 



MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 



man, " Hands off if you would know me at my best." 
To me no other kingdom of earth's many kingdoms 
of life offers more of the gladness that is active, un- 
trammeled, free ; but it must be in and out of its 
own. In brief, it must be on the wing — its " to and 
fro, : ' like the wind which bloweth where it listeth. To 
know the bird is to know him at home, in the house 
not built with hands, and who shall say that the far 
off towers thereof are not lifted u eternal * in the 
heavens ?" 



THE OWL. 
XII. 

Perhaps among all our birds there is none less 
known than the owl. Spending his waking time 
while almost all other creatures sleep, he is not easily 
seen and studied. I fancy most of us think his life 
must be shaded even to a deep settled melancholy. 
Surely his work, and pastime, too, for that matter, are 
all done away from the light of day, but that his deeds 
are evil does not by any means follow. He has his 
place in the economy of nature, and fills it with the 
same fidelity that belongs to his fellows. Formerly, 
I think, these birds of the night were much more 
plentiful than now. It does not appear that their 
food has grown less, but rather that their homes have 
disappeared. Fifty years ago the great forest trees 
were standing, and his owlship had his choice of 
homes among many that were all desirable. Now 
the trees are gone, and with them the homes. A 
member of the owl family stands as a connecting link 
with the hawk family. It is known as the hawk-owl, 
and is found in the northern regions of both con- 
tinents. It has the body and general form of the 



72 MY BIRD PA RISHIONERS. 

hawk, but the radiating feathers around the eyes and 
bill, as well as the form of the legs and feet, at once 
distinguish it as an owl. It hunts its prey by day, 
and is noted for its boldness, sometimes taking the 
game from the hunter after it is shot. 

While the greater number of the owls proper are 
nocturnal in their habits, there are two or three kinds 
that are active on the wing in broad daylight. Of the 
smaller varieties of this class the burrowing owl of 
the plains is perhaps the best known. They are 
found principally in the prairie dog towns of the west. 
They nest and breed in some abandoned burrow of 
the dogs, and seem to be on good terms with their 
neighbors. I have seen them sitting like statues on 
the little mound of earth, at the house door. Occa- 
sionally a dog would dart at them, sending them 
screaming into the air ; but in a few moments they 
would settle down again to the old musing attitude. 
I never saw them searching for food, but conclude 
that they found it in the almost innumerable insects 
that swarm in those treeless regions. One day owl, 
notably conspicuous, is the great white or snowy owl 
of the Arctic regions. Its - nesting place and home, 
largely, is far north in the Hudson Bay country. Its 
plumage in the winter is of a beautiful snowy white- 
ness, sometimes marked, especially in the summer 
season, with spots of brown. Frequently in the 



THE OWL. 



73 



coldest winter weather these birds will wander down 
into the United States, extending their journeys 
sometimes as far south as Kentucky. Audubon 
gives an account of one which he saw near Louis- 
ville, Kentucky, engaged in the rather unusual occu- 
pation of catching fish. It is the only instance with- 
in my knowledge of anyone observing the owl thus 
occupied, and I find myself wondering whether the 
great naturalist was not nodding a little. 

Thirty years ago the snowy owl was quite a com- 
mon visitor in Central New York. Now it is seldom 
seen. In my boyhood days a family, residing on the 
hill south of the village, were aroused early on a cold 
morning in January, by an unusual noise behind the 
board which shut out the great fireplace in the old 
kitchen. The chimney flue, cautiously opened, re- 
vealed an arctic owl of the largest size. After a 
stout battle he was captured and consigned to a 
wooden cage. He proved a prize indeed, and 
seemed to enjoy confinement so long as his larder 
was well supplied. After a time, however, he ceased 
to be a novelty, and his captor, tiring of his company, 
opened the cage door and allowed him to depart 
upon his long flight northward. The other owls of 
this vicinity are the great-horned, the long-eared, 
the short-eared, and the little screech owl. The 
latter is the most abundant species, and there is 
7 



7 4 MY BIRD PA R1SHI0NERS. 

scarcely any section of the eastern or middle states 
where it is not found. Almost all are familiar with 
its melancholy notes. Most of our country boys, at 
one time or another, have been interviewed by this 
diminutive fellow. One half conjectures that a part 
of the wierd hooting is bird laughter following the 
flight of the thoroughly frightened boy. It does 
seem like the uncanny voice of the night, and I 
should doubt the saneness of the boy who was not 
alarmed by it. It is now many years since I have 
seen a specimen of the larger species. The last 
time I saw the great horned owl was back in the 
forties. My brother and I were dropping the plas- 
ter for the corn planting near the old swamp woods, 
at the southern gate of the farm All the morning, 
from where the hemlocks were thickest, there came 
a succession of sounds that told us of some sort of 
bird convention. At first it was almost exclusively 
the crows that did the talking. Gradually, however, 
this changed, and the bluejays took the floor. 
While they did not rival the crow in loudness, they 
excelled him in the sharp biting stroke. Finally, 
after an hour or more of the noise, we climbed over 
the old worm fence and worked our way carefully 
down to the swamp side. Without disturbing the 
disputants, we soon discovered the bone of conten- 
tion and also just what the several parties had to 



THE OWL. 



75 



say about it. In the thick part of the old hemlock 
sat a great horned owl. Evidently he had been be- 
lated about his home getting the evening before, and 
some sharp-eyed crow had discovered the poor wan- 
derer and called his fellows to add a little more dis- 
comfort to his helpless plight. They had their fun, 
and then the jays came in for their share. I re- 
member it was a most ludicrous scene. On every 
side of the owl the jays were perched, and every one 
of the dozen or more was ringing out his sharpest 
cry. The object of all the outcry sat winking and 
blinking in the light as though he was utterly bewil- 
dered by the babel of sounds. On the part of the 
jays the entire scene appeared to be a venture of 
pure teasing, though had the owl been a smaller 
bird, I doubt not he would have been much more 
roughly used, for the jay, as some one has said, is 
the " pirate among the birds." 

The food of the owl consists very largely of the 
smaller animals, especially of those that are nocturnal 
in their habits. Sometimes the larger species visit 
farmyards and levy tribute on the plump chickens 
that roost in the old apple tree at the house door. 
From the fact, however, that the large owls are rarely 
found free from the strong odor of the skunk, we 
know that this animal forms a large part of their food. 
Night for their work, and pastime, with food odorous 



7 6 MY BIRD PARISHIOXERS. 

as the above named, makes up a bird life that is al- 
most entirely devoid of the glad things usually found 
in that kingdom. 



THE CROW. 

XIII. 

There is one bird of size, color and emphatic voice 
that, like u the poor," we have with us always. 
Everybody knows the crow, and knows, too, that his 
place is a large one among our feathered friends. 
The simple fact that he continues with us is strong 
evidence of the " survival of the fittest." In all the 
early history of this section the crow was suffered 
simply as a nuisance. He had no rights that anyone 
in any way felt bound in the slightest degree to re- 
spect. The fiat went forth from every farmer and 
hunter, " death to the crow." It had the effect to 
render this black fellow the brightest, keenest, most 
wary of all our birds. Much has been written of his 
shrewdness, and more of his watchful skill whereby 
he outwits all his enemies, and still I fancy the half 
has not yet been told. In recent years a change has 
come over our rural districts, and our friend of the 
somber dress has profited by it. Men, especially 
farmers, have slowly learned that the crow is not an 
enemy, but a stout and most serviceable friend. He 
does some harm in the corn fields, and in other par- 



y 8 MY BIRD PA RISHIONERS. 

ticulars is not altogether free from actions that com- 
plicate his character among our rural citizens, but on 
the other hand, he is of great service to *he farmer. 
No other bird is so destructive to grubs and different 
kinds of the large insect pests as the crow. 

Where the grasshoppers assemble he finds his 
richest pasture, and there is no limit to his appetite 
for snakes, toads and frogs. As by instinct, he dis- 
covers the animal that has fallen dead by the way- 
side. I have seen the crow almost instantly find its 
way to the single dead animal and in a brief space 
of time twenty of his fellows would be feasting with 
him. I could not discern any particular signal, and 
yet I suppose one was given, or the news transmitted 
in some other way. I have seen the same thing oc- 
cur with the turkey buzzards of the Southwest. On 
the great open plains the body of a dead animal 
could be exposed but a few minutes before the buz- 
zards would begin to assemble in large numbers. 
Not a bird in sight at first, then a single black speck 
in the far away blue, and then another, quickly grow- 
ing into a long line of great birds all hastening to 
the feast. It may be an instinct that guides, or it 
may be the sharp sight of a watchful sentinel pen- 
etrating far beyond what we know of human vision. 
As a scavenger the crow is most useful. He has a 
fondness for the eggs and young of other birds, which 



THE CROW. 



79 



he indulges with the utmost freedom. His size and 
strength enable him to attack and rob with impun- 
ity, though occasionally he meets with his match. 
The kingbird or giant flycatcher, does not hesitate 
to oppose him to the face, and is almost sure to dis- 
comfit him. I have seen the kingbird pursue the 
crow with such vigor as to alight on his back and ap- 
parently drive his sharp bill deep into the flesh of the 
bold marauder. 

Some of the habits of the crow are quite peculiar. 
His shyness is proverbial, also his extreme watchful- 
ness, but that this solemn fellow is possessed of what 
appears to be a keen sense of humor is not so gen- 
erally known. They have, I think, their playgrounds 
where they take genuine crow pastime. I have no- 
ticed that the broad hillside just west of Cassville on 
the old Thomas farm, is one of their favorite resorts. 
In the hundreds of times that I have passed there I 
do not now recall a single occasion, either in winter 
or summer, when a larger or smaller flock of crows 
was not present, and almost always engaged in what 
looked like play. Of course, they know the best 
places for the pastime which suits their facetious 
moods, but inasmuch as they make such extensive 
use of the hillside, I think we may safely say their 
principal recreation is coasting. That certainly is 
what it looks like to me. The great black fellows 



80 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

will come into sight, lumbering heavily along over 
the crest of the hill, but the moment they drop into 
the down grade, they glide easily to the hill foot, 
where with a broad curve they sweep around by a 
gentle ascent to the upland again. They have the 
advantage of the boys, for their hill, winter and sum- 
mer alike, is always in order, and they seem to have 
a little of the sport every day. Some of their pecu- 
liarities are seen only where the young are taken 
from the nest and thoroughly domesticated. They 
are easily tamed and for a time, at least, are inter- 
esting pets. 

A friend favored us with a fine specimen last sum- 
mer which rejoiced in the name of Croker. He 
quickly put away all the sly crow nature, and be- 
came as contented and familiar as the house cat. 
His capacity for mischief seemed almost unlimited. 
The old shingles on the barn he pulled out and scat- 
tered about the yard. He sampled freely the first 
ripe berries and apples. He bored clean holes in the 
squashes and pumpkins, and his particular delight 
was to appropriate to himself all the brightest blos- 
soms of the flower garden. Frequently in the morn- 
ing he would come into the garden where I was at 
work, and after standing about for a while, first on 
one foot and then on the other, eyeing curiously all 
my motions, he would sidle along to some shrub, or 



THE CROW. 81 

hill of corn, and after saluting it crow fashion, would 
circle about it, dancing and chuckling as I have seen 
the Indians do at some of their festivities. He 
seemed to enjoy the fun of a surprise. He would 
come slyly from a convenient perch and drop upon 
the shoulders of a person suddenly, and in proportion 
to the alarm his advent occasioned would be his ap- 
parent enjoyment of it all. On Sundays he made 
due effort to attend church ; in fact, he was so per- 
sistent that we were obliged to shut him up securely 
until the service was over. He resented these forced 
imprisonments, and never failed to express by his 
manner what he thought of such tyranny, as he walked 
slowly out of his cell. He seemed quite delighted 
when he learned his pranks were not appreciated, 
and we soon found that his most assiduous atten- 
tions were given where he appeared to know they 
were not wanted. He finally distributed his friend- 
ship so widely that he became a sort of village nuis- 
ance; and we felt obliged to return him to his farm- 
home. There he flourished for a time, but eventually 
indulged in so much mischief thathe was turned over 
to the executioner, and so ignominiously ended his 
career. 

As a nest builder the crow is not of high rank. In 
some convenient tree he piles together a mass of 
sticks, shaped for his purpose. The lining of the 



82 MY BIRD PA RISHIONERS. 

nest is hardly more than a thin veneering of finer 
sticks. The eggs are usually four in number, and the 
growing young are as noisy and hungry a set as can 
be found in the whole range of birddom. Formerly 
in the fall of the year this bird gathered in flocks of 
vast numbers. They scattered during the day time 
to feed, returning to the roosting place at night. I 
have seen them just before sundown pouring into 
the wood on the old Addington farm in a continuous 
stream until acres of trees were filled with them. 
For an hour or more there was a babel of sound that 
filled the entire country side, then with the subdued 
chuckle in which the crow indulges, they settled into 
a quiet, more or less fitful, until with the first ray of 
morning light they streamed out to the day's work 
and play. Later on the great flocks dissolved into 
companies of three or four, which were scattered far 
and wide for the somewhat meager feasting of the 
long winter. Perhaps the most picturesque appear- 
ance the crow makes is when he forms a feature in 
the winter landscape. He contrasts well with the 
whiteness of the snow, and some way the tones of 
his voice are always more or less chilly. If they 
smack at all of the poetic it is of the arctic kind, 
which has its place and power where the snow and 
cold reign supreme. 



THE ENGLISH SPARROW. 
XIV. 

The bird Ishmael. according to a more or less popu- 
lar notion, is the English sparrow. Like the colored 
brother from Africa, he landed on our shores without 
any choice of his own. Once here, however, he 
proceeded to multiply in, if not to replenish the 
earth. As long as he remained a " hewer of wood 
and drawer of water," he was thought nice, wise and 
useful. He fell into line early as a new recruit, 
answered readily to roll call, and was regarded as 
steadily and^surely moving on to all the immunities of 
American citizenship. But like all the foreigners 
who had preceded him, once in possession of his 
footing on the new shore, he immediately asserted 
his rights and marshalled all his battalions to defend 
them. He became a true American. The spirit of 
freedom took possession of him. If any ship sailed 
into his port ladened with the " tea of contraband,'' 
he tumbled it overboard without any particular cere- 
mony, and I never heard that he put on another 
bird's warpaint in doing it. If a sister common- 
wealth massed its troops, over came sparrow forces 



84 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

and drove him out, it was done by hard fighting, and 
so far as I have observed, there is enough human 
nature in the English sparrow to impel him to battle 
his way in again to the full possession of his own, if 
the slightest chance occur favorable to his purpose. 
I like this bird because there is so much real push 
in him. Transported to a distant land without his 
consent being asked, he doesn't spend a moment's 
time lamenting the matter. He never whines nor 
mopes. He asks no favors of anybody. He takes 
matters just as he finds them. He goes to work, 
builds his house, marries, sets up housekeeping, 
provides for his own, and keeps on, day after day, 
enjoying that poor, weak, shaky song of his, just as 
rapturously, for anything I can see, as Bobolink, the 
Jenny Lind of our meadows, trills his matchless 
melody. 

How true it is that the core of the song lies a 
great deal deeper than the execution which simply 
awakens our admiration. The strong, true,right heart 
never knows any discord, and I fancy our homely 
sparrow must be the possessor of a pretty good heart, 
or he never could get on so contentedly for even one 
hour with that " breaking forth '' of his to which it 
hardly seems possible to apply the appellation of 
" joyful noise." The virtue of contentment under 
adverse circumstances surely is here. 



THE ENGLISH SPARROW. 85 

Expatriation, voice and raiment never in the 
slightest degree artistic, never much more than 4t the 
against every man,'' but with this a certain kind of 
self-assertion that rises often to the dignity of real 
courage, and a sort of dogged persistence that, 
Grant-like, never knows defeat, — why is not this 
sparrow the typical Teuton of the bird races — the 
victory-winning fellow because he attends to the win- 
ning of the victory, and to that alone ? But let us 
turn to what the sparrow is in real every day life as 
he passes m review under our own observation. 
Most of the birds give us a part of their lives 
only, but the sparrow the round year, with all 
his hopes and fears and loves. The merit of indus- 
try is surely his. He is a worker that needeth not 
to be ashamed. I have watched a pair at their nest 
building when it seemed a task without any release. 
No other bird of its size brings together such a quan- 
tity of material. He piles it up day after day, and, 
seemingly, when the nest is done he goes on piling it 
up. Almost any place that is large enough will do 
tor sparrow's home. He will bear a good deal of ad- 
versity in the way of opposition to his house building. 
I have seen the nest removed when half built several 
times, and the bird keep right on rebuilding in the 
same place without any appearance of irritation. 
Sometimes the only way to stop the work is by clos- 



86 MY BIRD PA RISHIONERS. 

ing up the place altogether. I think them true Ice- 
landers in love of home. We have no other oird that 
builds to stay like the English sparrow. 

I conclude that the rising generation rarely ever 
thinks of emigration as a relief to their over-crowded 
towns — in fact, they have no over-crowded towns. 
There is room and to spare on all their best streets, 
and all are best. But industry and love of home shine 
brightest where they have the golden setting of high 
courage. Our bird, so far as I can learn, like Bis- 
marck's Germans, u fears nothing but God."' I do 
not think he is as quarrelsome as some allege. I 
have seen several contests that could be truly termed 
civil war, but I have never seen very much fighting 
between sparrow and our native birds. When he is 
ranging a little beyond his own hearthstone most 
birds have the ability and the disposition to drive 
him back, but I have never known the battle joined 
at his own door without sparrow standing strong for 
all his rights. I like him because as a true English- 
man he stands up for his rights. 

In defense of his home he is quite ready to die 
long before the enemy reaches the last ditch. That 
such a spirit should at times develop many an Ish- 
mael, I am quite prepared to believe, though it has 
not been in my way to detect one. There is another 
characteristic of this bird which is still a matter of 



THE ENGLISH SPARR O W. 8 7 

dispute. His value as a worker in orchards and 
gardens is widely questioned. I have never seen 
him aiding in any manner to enlarge the gardener's 
hope, but in the trees I have noticed him on duty 
many times. Just what insect he eats I do not know ; 
but through my glass I have watched the bird as he 
moved along the upper side of a large limb, turning 
over the loose pieces of bark and securing either 
the insect or its eggs in large numbers. I have never 
discovered any harm to plant or shrub or tree 
wrought by these little fellows. One other trait of 
character not often noted endears this bird to me — 
a keen sense of humor. 

A great commotion in the tree near my study 
window one bright morning attracted my attention. 
A dozen sparrows were tumbling about the branches, 
shouting and chattering as though absorbed in some 
kind of a bird game. Suddenly they gathered in a 
little knot in the thickest part of the tree and, peer- 
ing in each other's faces, seemed to say, " What 
next ? " As though a signal had been given, the 
bird on the highest twig reached down and, seizing 
the one below by the feathers of the head, swung 
him from the perch back and forth for nearly a 
minute, then dropped him to a long tumble through 
the branches as a boy would have bumped his way 
along, until, clear of the tree, he caught the air with 



88 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

his wings and flew merrily away. All this time the 
other birds stood on tiptoe with extended wings, 
keeping time apparently to the movement of the 
bird suspended in the air. If it were not an in- 
stance illustrating sparrow T 's love of a practical joke, 
then I do not know where to class it. Finally, this 
sparrow is the only one of our smaller village birds 
that habitually braves the rigor of our northern win- 
ters. He stays right on and for aught I can see, is 
the same contented fellow when the mercury is at 
zero as on the balmiest summer day. Why has he 
not really won his spurs in a most vigorous fashion 
here on our western shores ? And why can not we, 
by a rule that we honor in every other direction, ex- 
tend a cordial welcome to the bird that combines so 
many good qualities and possesses so little that we 
ever think is objectionable in the human brother? 



THE PARTRIDGE. 
XV. 

In the deeper glades of the old cedar swamp we 
find some of the most interesting of our feathered 
friends. Perhaps the shyest of all our birds dwells 
here. He belongs to the large grouse family, and 
is easily a prince among his fellows. He is com- 
monly designated by the name of partridge, which is 
oft-times somewhat confusing, as the common quail 
is also given the same local name. The range of 
this bird is of wide extent. He is equally at home 
in Southern New York and in the far northern region 
of the Hudson Bay country. To know him inti- 
mately requires no little skill and patience. One 
might pass a long lifetime in close proximity to 
partridge's home, and see but very little of him. The 
old farm where I spent all my early years was deeply 
fringed on its western border by a dense cedar 
swamp. It covered many acres of ground, and was 
the favorite resort of all the boys for miles around. 
In those leafy isles I first learned of the partridge 
and his many interesting habits of life. How he 
would flash out of the swamp sometimes, and come 



go MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

swiftly to the old farm house, once dashing against 
the roof and falling dead at the very dooostep. 
Several times we found the bird sitting solemnly in 
the old barn, apparently wondering as much as we 
how he came there. 

Again and again we tried the experiment of trans- 
ferring the eggs to the brooding care of a motherly 
hen, and always with the same result of the young- 
partridges scampering away into the grass v the mo- 
ment they were hatched. On his native heather, 
however, the partridge is a proud and merry citizen. 
I have watched him many times, and I know of no 
bird that seems to make more of life. I recall a 
little group that I came upon in an old lumber road 
just at the swamp side. It was early morning 
and the birds were evidently out for an hour or two 
of merry-making. From the vantage ground of a 
thicket of cedar I could see them clearly without 
my presence being in the least suspected. They ran 
rapidly down the road for a little distance, then with 
a brisk flutter of the wings, retraced their steps. Cu- 
riously they would peer into the thickets on either 
side, and at times almost seem to dance over the 
mossy carpet, keeping step together. Suddenly one 
of the birds scurried away to a large half buried log, 
and I saw for the first, and only time in my life, that 
peculiar action known as the " drumming of the 



THE PARTRIDGE. 



91 



partridge/' Standing high on his feet, the bird 
passed rapidly along the log, striking his. wings to- 
gether in front of the body, giving out a low muffled 
sound not unlike distant thunder. 

Some one has called it the " song of the part- 
ridge." Evidently it has to do with the merry mak- 
ing of the bird, and possibly may be of more serious 
significance. As it occurs only in the spring of the 
year, I am quite sure there is a nuptial strain in it. 
But at this particular time it seemed to be pure fun 
making, at least so it appeared to me. At another 
time I was sitting quietly among the tamaracks, 
watching a pair of hawks at their nest building, 
when my attention was attracted by a slight rustle 
among the leaves. Glancing in the direction of the 
sound, I was given a fine view of a large partridge 
passing quietly on a tour of inspection. He had 
discovered me, and evidently was curious to know 
what sort of new being had dropped into the old 
swamp. Very slowly he passed me in review, de- 
scribing nearly an entire circle in the effort ; then, ap- 
parently quite satisfied, he walked deliberately away 
to his family, which I could hear at their morning 
duties a little further on among the trees. I am 
sure that if this shyest of birds was given immunity 
from the hunter, he would become much more fa- 
miliar, and we should find him a most entertaining 



9 2 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS, 

companion. The nest is usually snugly tucked away 
in some half concealed place, though I have discov- 
ered it in the open glade where there was little or 
no cover. The young birds seem to hatch, as it 
were, at the same time, and all leave the nest im- 
mediately. The little fellows are wonderfully strong 
and active. They grow rapidly and are soon able 
to use their wings and fly short distances. 

One of the most interesting scenes in swamp life 
is a family of these birds busy with the cares and 
play of partridge life. If nothing disturbs the house- 
keeper during the nesting days the group of children 
is a large one, frequently numbering fifteen and even 
more. On one of my journeys of swamp inspection 
I came upon a large family of these birds, the young 
not large enough to fly. Instantly there was a great 
commotion. The old birds flew into my face and 
about my head, and when the young ones had hidden 
nicely the mother bird went fluttering along the 
ground in a lame shambling fashion, as though she had 
been badly hurt and was hardly able to make her es- 
cape. Knowing it to be a ruse, I followed a little 
distance, then returned to the place where the young 
birds were hidden. The thick carpet of leaves and 
moss made an ideal hiding place. 

A spot ten feet square held the birds, but I could 
not see one of them. I set my dog to the task of 



THE PARTRIDGE. 



93 



finding the little fellows. He quickly located each 
one, and I soon had fifteen housed safely in the old 
straw hat that served for the coop admirably. I was 
strongly tempted to take them home with me, but the 
stirring appeals of the parent birds quickly settled the 
case. I turned the hat over, and like a flash the fif- 
teen disappeared in the leaves and moss. Ten min- 
utes later I saw from a distance the happy reunion of 
parents and children, and the trooping away into the 
deeper recesses of the swamp. 

Partridge has many enemies. The sportsman seeks 
him as the prince of game birds. Skunks and some 
of the larger birds find the eggs to their liking, while 
the sly fox gathers many a bird into his somewhat 
meager larder. Wet, cool weather reduces the num- 
ber of the young chicks rapidly, while a winter of 
deep snow and severe cold will starve many of the 
older birds. At his best, however, the partridge is 
essentially the bird of the swamp. His sober mot- 
tled attire harmonizes well with the shadowy glades 
he makes his home, while the song he beats out with 
his wings, muffled and solemn, seems to come from 
moss-covered depths that can only find voice in the 
deep undertones of sound. That his flight should 
be quite so swift is a little out of keeping with his 
place, but it may be a partial compensation for a life 
that is passed almost wholly in the shadowy reaches 
of the swamp or the denser thickets of the upland. 



THE WREN AND PURPLE CROWNED SPARROW. 
XVI. 

One of the merriest dwellers in the rectory yard is 
the wren. A pair of them moved in about the middle of 
May. and I have noticed that their active life has 
been very accurately bounded by their wakeful mo- 
ments. Usually I can discover the nest without much 
difficulty, but this year I have not been keen enough 
to detect it. I rather enjoy being outwitted by a bird. 
There is a spice of comfort in it that does not appear 
when one is left a little in the rear by his fellow man. 
This pair of wrens have pastured very pleasantly in 
my domain, and I have interviewed them almost 
every day, but as yet have not crossed the thresh- 
hold of the house where they live. 

But what matter really ? The head of this small 
family has sung to me daily. With his busy help- 
meet he has taught me many a lesson in the most 
cheery kind of work-life, and socially I have no fault 
to find with any of the bird's ways. Among all the 
great hosts of my tenants-at-will I rank the wren 
very high. What a bright-eyed, active, generous lit- 
tle fellow he is ! With the same breath he sings and 



WREN AND PURPLE CROWNED SPARROW. 95 

works and plays. He never seems to be out of 
work, and, I am sure, sings right out of the gladness 
of his merry little heart. It is quite a problem with 
me when I am watching the smaller birds how the 
insects manage to continue in existence at all. My 
pair of wrens must secure thousands every day, and 
a dozen other kinds of birds rival them in their work. 
But I have no great concern about the matter. 
Mother Nature takes care of her own, and while she 
has mouths to feed, she will see to it that '• seed time 
and harvest " alternate without any great irregular- 
ity. If I were to find the nest I am pretty sure 
there would be no new thing discovered. Out in the 
old orchard back of the hotel I fancy the house is 
built, Some one of the many crevices in the old trees 
holds it securely, and such feasting as goes on there 
is only rivaled by some other bird household. A few 
days more and the wrens 5 housekeeping will be over 
for this season. The family will separate, and for ten 
months or more will roam wild and free. But when 
another spring-time comes, some part of the family 
will come again to the old hearthstone, and so the 
simple housekeeping may be repeated, perhaps for 
generations. 

There are three species of wrens that come to us. 
The house-wren that we are all familiar with, 
the great Carolina wren that frequents the water 



9 6 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

courses, and the winter wren, which makes its visits 
in the winter. I am told that west of the Mississippi 
there are several kinds that differ in some particulars 
from our eastern species, but wherever they are 
there the best of bird domestic life is found. The 
song of the wren is easily recognized, and I know of 
no other bird that puts more of the home strain into 
its melody. I have fancied at times that its cheery 
movement was the best expression of the fireside life 
that we have among the birds. It is closely akin to 
the " cricket on the hearth " music, and finds its way 
surely to the heart that is open to the sacred influ- 
ence of home. Another of the dwellers in the rectory 
yard is in some respects an ideal bird. He comes 
early and sings with a sweetness all his own. This 
year I was sitting under the spreading branches of 
my one large apple tree, about the middle of May, 
when a familiar chirp attracted my attention. Not 
ten feet from me, hanging head downward and peer- 
ing into my face curiously, was my bird, just arrived 
from the sunny skies of the far south. I had no 
means of determining whether he belonged to the 
family which stopped with me last year. He cer- 
tainly appeared perfectly at home, and was dressed 
precisely as the man of the house was last season. 
Through an opening in the leafy screen above, the 
sun flashed down upon him, and when the reflection 



WREN AND PURPLE CROWNED SPARROW. 97 

reached me it brought the purple hue that told the 
name of the bird, the " purple crowned sparrow.' 7 
Of course I answered his greeting, and assured him 
the freedom of the rectory city. With some bipeds 
I have now and then had such a burst of confidence 
betrayed, but with the birds, never. They know how 
to be perfectly at home on my domain, and never 
take other liberties than such as I am quite 
sure- they have a right to take. Even while I gave 
the greeting, the wife of my guest came briskly 
in, and I was soon on good terms with both the new- 
comers. The woman of this household was very 
soberly attired, and, I noticed, wore her suit of 
brown without any appearance of dissatisfaction. 
The birds have among their many gifts some that in- 
struct the preacher. They are preachers, and I am 
never more at home than when I get the sermon of 
their preaching So far as I have discovered, the 
sermon sticks to the text, and the text to the ser- 
mon. All the sermons of my bird parishioners read 
and sound like that of St. Paul, that " women adorn 
themselves in modest apparel." At all events, that 
is the instruction of the every day pulpit of life among 
this great host, and while the men wear the '• out- 
ward adorning," it is their teaching that they walk 
among their fellows as though they had it not. 
Trom both parties, however, the one parable after 
9 



9 8 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

all, that the gifts are talents to be used rightly, else 
no going forward into the fullness of life. 

Pardon the digression, kind reader. Purple 
crowned and his modest wife knew nothing of it, 
and so perhaps will go on, all the better preachers. 
They stayed long enough with me, however, to illus- 
trate some of the very best of bird activity. They 
are workmen in the great vineyard that " needeth 
not to be ashamed." Occasionally the head v of this 
•little household would open some of the simple 
strains of his quiet melody, and I fancied that the 
apple blossoms had " ears to hear/' Does the effort 
of the singer heighten the color of the raiment he 
wears ? 

Some way, among the birds the song seems to be 
closely allied to the beauty which flashes in the bril- 
liant hues of the singers' attire. The purple crowned 
sparrow lifts his head, opens wide his little throat, and 
as the notes ripple forth, the neck and back glow in 
the changing purple hues as though some invisible 
Raphael was drawing his most brilliant lines. Now 
and then it seemed as though the bird knew that the 
song and the beauty were the proclamation from his 
housetop, and that it was his right to be it, in the 
honest pride of the bird's heart. But surely he had 
too much good bird sense to let any such matter do 
him much harm. Almost ever day he tells out the 



WREN AND PURPLE CROWNED SPARROW. 9 g 

gladness of his heart in song, and when I am listen- 
ing, seems a little overconscious of the effort. 

The nest was hung in one of the smaller trees of 
the old cemetery, a snug little house lined with spar- 
row like neatness, and a home of quiet bird life that 
I found myself watching with increasing interest until 
the little family moved into the wider house that 
scarcely knows the boundary wall. While I write 
I notice the tenth nest building by robin hands on 
the rectory grounds, double the number I have ever 
known in one season before. 



THE KILDEER, PIPER, WOODCOCK AND SNIPE. 

XVII. 

Forty years ago a bird was common in all our 
pastures which I scarcely meet at all now. Its local 
name is mirrored in the single note which it 'utters 
rapidly when disturbed. Every school boy knows 
the kildeer, and something of its habits. Its haunts 
are the swampy ground of the open reaches extend- 
ing along the low places of the pastures or meadows. 
Some way it seems the most restless of our many 
birds. At the least alarm it rushes away into the 
upper air, winging its rapid course with no per- 
ceptible effort. Where other birds deem a short 
flight ail sufficient, the kildeer passes high into the 
air and hardly pauses until out of sight. Its trim 
body seems to balance perfectly on its broad, strong 
wings, and I remember, as a boy, I used to enter- 
tain the idea that the bird's incessant cry of kildeer 
helped it on its way. In maturer years the notion 
grew into almost a certainty, for I never saw the 
flight without the stimulus of the cry. I know of no 
other small bird whose flight seems so much a mere 
gliding through the air. As I see it, there is only at 



AVIDEER, PIPER, WOODCOCK, SNIPE. ior 

wide intervals any movement of the wings, and then 
it appears like a stroke that is hardly needed. If I 
should write all my thought, I should say that the 
great bird pasture of the air opened its arms to this 
bird and bore it onward and upward as a part of its 
very self. How this bird ever is satisfied to make 
its house on the ground and take up patiently the 
housekeeper's duties, is one of the problems of bird 
life. 

But it is not much of a house, so I suppose the 
duties are not very exacting.- A little depression 
somewhere between the tufts of grass is all there is 
of the nest. It contains usually four cream white 
eggs. The nestlings, like young partridges, run 
nimbly into the grass as soon as hatched. Their 
raiment is a soft fluffy down and to the eye they ap- 
pear at a little distance like a pufifball of creamy 
hue that has just sprung up out of the earth. The 
parent birds are unremitting in their care and in a 
short time graduate the little fellows as first-class 
navigators of the birds' ocean home. 

Another familiar bird closely allied to the kildeer 
is the sand piper, or, as it is sometimes termed, the 
tip-up. In early June this bird appears, having made 
the long journey from its far winter home in the 
tropics. Almost every little pond throughout our 
entire state is allowed at least one family of these 



102 MV BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

busy fellows, while the streams are peopled at every 
turn with some member of the great host. I know 
of no other bird that is so nearly an illustration of 
" perpetual motion" as this little sand piper. He 
is never still in his wakeful moments. I have watched 
him for many minutes at a time and never saw him 
for an instant without the little piping note, and with 
each emission of sound there came the up and down 
movement of the body which gives him his local 
name of tip-up. One of my most vivid recollections 
of the spring lot on the old farm is closely associated 
with piper's curious ways. His children were the 
wonder of our boyhood days. Many a time the 
cows came home a little late, and the boy when 
questioned of the tardiness, confessed that the lost 
time was given to an interview with the little pipers, 
which seemed to call to him out of the sweetflag, a 
step or two down the sluggish stream from the old 
spring pond. The nest, like that of kildeer's, is built 
apparently without trying and is of no use particularly 
after the young are hatched. I have a notion that 
some of the animals which make their home along 
the water courses secure a majority of the water 
birds' young. The activity of the mink places him 
first as a thoroughly equipped hunter, and of course 
he gets the lion's share. 

Another bird which frequents the low places of the 



KILDEER, PIPER, WOODCOCK, SNIPE. 10 ^ 

fields and swamps is the woodcock. It has a high 
reputation among sportsmen as a game bird, and 
epicures regard its flesh as one of the richest deli- 
cacies of the table If its quiet be undisturbed it 
will pass the day at rest. At the first signal of twi- 
light, however, it begins its noctural rambles. Its 
foraging is peculiar. I have seen the soft mould 
punctured with holes, every inch examined closely 
and made to yield its quota to the bird's support. 
With the deepening of the darkness I have often 
heard the bird winging his way to the upland, where 
he could search the corn fields perhaps all the night 
through. The flight is rapid and at times accompan- 
ied by a whistling sound which seems to have a lit- 
tle touch of song in it. 

I have never seen the nest, but from the habits of 
the bird I should conclude that in simplicity it rivaled 
those previously noted in this paper. The snipe, as 
I know him, is closely related to the woodcock. He 
gives us a little of his time in the spring and autumn, 
but finds his nesting place in the far north. The 
hunters enjoy his visits and usually manage to levy 
large tribute on his more or less crowded ranks. 
With the woodcock and the pipers he flies away to 
the far south for his winter home. All the birds 
named in this paper are practically songless. They 
have their single notes varying in length and loud- 



1 04 M 1 T BIRD- PA RISHIONERS. 

ness, but no consecutive song like the field sparrow 
or the bobolink. They are also attired in the sober- 
est raiment that the birds wear. There is no per- 
ceptible difference in the plumage of the sexes. I 
wonder a little why these citizens of the marshes are 
denied these cheery things. Some of their fellows, 
like the marsh sparrow, sing with rare melody, but I 
do not now recall a single species dwelling in the 
damp reaches of our fields, that wears in any degree 
the raiment of brilliant colors. Two or three reasons 
are easily uncovered why this is wise. Essentially 
these are all birds of the ground. They nest there, 
find their food there, and rarely alight anywhere else. 
Bright colored plumage would increase largely the 
danger from their many enemies, while the attractive 
song might be a new peril in the same way. It may 
be that in their own vernacular they sing and know 
the song. Carlyle says : " The deepest thing in 
man is song." Why not the bird made like that, at 
home, to his own ever a song ? 

But however it may be, touching the singer and his 
song, our birds of the marshes have one accomplish- 
ment that puts them quite first among their fellows. 
They might well bear all of the deprivation men- 
tioned to be the accomplished runners they are. 
Over the wet sand, hard and firm, they pass with fly- 
ing feet. I have seen the young of both the kildeer 



KILDEER, PIPER, WOODCOCK, SNIPE. 10 ~ 

and the piper dart through the tall grass so quickly 
that one could hardly detect more than a little ball 
in rapid motion. Frequently the sand bars of our 
smaller streams seem to be a sort of bird stadium, 
and diminutive pipers the runners, the great trees 
and smaller shrubs-the audience of solemn mien and 
judgment, never warped by the least taint of favor- 
itism. 



THE WILD PIGEON AND CUCKOO. 
XVIII. 

One species of our native birds has entirely disap- 
peared from New York. In the far west I believe 
there are a few left, but in a short time they too, will 
yield to the will of the sportsman, and the wild or 
passenger pigeon become a thing of the past. The 
last that I saw was a small flock in the wilds of Okla- 
homa. Fifteen years have passed since then, and I 
apprehend the bird is not now found east of the 
Rocky Mountains. The annual flights of these birds 
40 years ago were the events of the year. The 
spring flight began usually in April, and for a week 
or more the great flocks passed in almost unbroken 
succession. In the autumn, after the young birds 
had attained full size, the second flight of the season 
occurred. The autumn flight was almost always the 
larger, and continued for a greater length of time. 
In 1840 I remember the fall movement was unusually 
large. At times the sun was sensibly darkened by 
the immense flocks. It became quite a problem 
with the farmers how to protect their wheat fields 
from the depredations of the birds. The writer well 



THE WILD PIGEON AND CUCKOO. 



J07 



remembers being placed as a mere boy in one part 
of the field, while the grain was gathered at another 
point, and even then large numbers of the pigeons 
would swoop down and appropriate much more than 
their share. All the old fowling pieces and muskets 
in the country were brought into requisition without 
sensibly lessening the numbers, while thousands were 
netted and killed in other ways. Soon after the first 
frosts the birds slowly disappeared, and, curiously 
enough, still kept their close fellowship. Some- 
where at the west or southwest they established, as 
by common consent, their winter home. 

Here immense numbers would assemble and spend 
the nights, scattering during the day time far and 
wide in search of food. I believe one of the last 
pigeon roosts of any size was in the southern part of 
Indian Territory. Here in the evening the birds 
would assemble daily, crowding in on the branches 
of the great trees until they broke under the weight 
in every direction. The hunters gathered from all 
parts of the country, and the daily slaughter was 
many thousands. The wild flesh eating animals 
came thronging to the feast, and the wonder was 
that a bird remained to tell the tale. A few years, 
however, of this wholesale destruction practically ex- 
terminated the species. 

Their nesting was a counterpart to the roosting. 



1 08 M \ r BIRD PA RISHIONERS. 

A tract of forest trees would be so densely occupied 
that every available spot would hold a nest. Fre- 
quently the trees would break and fall under the 
strain, until when the nesting season was over, acres 
of forest would be almost utterly ruined. These 
places of assembly were long distances from the feed- 
ing grounds of the birds — sometimes a hundred miles 
and more. The wild pigeon's marvelous power of 
flight enabled it to range in a single day the territory 
of one of our largest states. Hence their gregarious 
habits did not in the least interfere with the supply 
of food. The nest of the pigeon is a rude structure 
of sticks and grass that hardly deserves the name of 
nest. Usually the young are two in number, and 
grow so rapidly that they are soon ready for the life 
on the wing. This bird has no song, but utters a 
number of low notes, some of which are sounds that 
seem to be almost the soft breathing of the great 
trees. One can but regret that a bird of so many at- 
tractive qualities should entirely disappear from our 
midst. I see no way, however, by which he could 
have been preserved. 

As the country was settled and improved the wild 
pigeon in the very nature of the case would disap- 
pear. The compensation largely is in the multiply- 
ing of the song birds, and with such an exchange we 
may well rest content. 



THE WILD PIGEON AND CUCKOO, 109 

Another of our birds which frequently reminds me 
of the wild pigeon is the common cuckoo. As he 
flies directly from one and alights, the movement is 
almost an exact counterpart of that of the pigeon. 
We have several varieties of the cuckoo, but the yel- 
low-billed species is the most common. The English 
cuckoo has a clouded reputation from the fact that it 
deposits its eggs in the nests of other birds, and 
leaves to them the task of rearing its young. Our 
bird has been charged with the same practice, and 
doubtless is not entirely clear of the charge. I have 
no personal knowledge of any instance of such impo- 
sition, but several of our naturalists aver that it does 
occur. 

Early this season the cuckoos appeared in the 
rectory yard, and I soon knew, by the daily visits, 
that two families were domiciled somewhere near. 
Ten days later one pair disappeared, so I knew that 
their home was broken up. The other pair contin- 
ued, and a little later the low chuckles from beyond 
the church told me that the young family was on 
the wing. For a few days they interviewed me fre- 
quently, then went out into the wider world for the 
long vacation. Later in the fall they may look in 
upon me for a few days as they pass to their winter 
home. The cuckoo comes to us late in the spring, 
and usually leaves for the south early in the fall. 
10 



j I O MY BIRD PA RISHIONERS. 

Perhaps it is true of him that he comes the latest 
and goes the earliest of all our birds. His song, if 
such it can be termed, never seems at the best only 
on the hottest of the summer days. It is essentially 
tropical in sound, and seems not only to break out, 
but to be broken with heat. Its nest is usually 
given a place in some thicket a few feet from 
the ground, and the bird's passage to and fro 
through the branches is a cheery lesson in graceful 
gliding motion. To some the abrupt notes of the 
cuckoo seem sobered with melancholy. To them 
his advent is not hailed with delight, and the nest- 
ing near the house portends more or less misfortune. 

Like some of the other birds, he is credited with 
the gift of foresight. His rain song is well known in 
all the country side, and I am disposed to think is 
regarded with more favor than that of any other bird. 
I cannot detect any difference in the notes he utters 
just previous to a shower, and the ordinary song in 
the clearest day. Very likely all there is of the fore- 
sight is the quickening of life in the atmospheric 
changes which precede the approaching storm. 

I notice the cuckoo is not a favorite with the 
other birds. For some reason they seem to cherish 
a pronounced antipathy to this sleek summer visitor, 
so I infer, without ever having seen the act, that the 
cuckoo is guilty of the charge of robbing his fellow 



THE WILD PIGEON AND CUCKOO. m 

birds' nests. That he does it with the best in- 
tentions I have no doubt, but that would not by any 
means save him from the hearty dislike of the ones 
thus summarily deprived of their own. His work 
among the worms and insects is a redeeming quality 
which accords him a worthy place among the farm- 
ers' best friends. 



THE FLYCATCHER. 

XIX. 

I do not now recall a season when the kingbirds, or 
giant flycatchers, have been so plentiful as they are 
this year. They have nested in nearly every Orchard 
and little grove of the parish. The young are now 
out of the nest, and I meet them in large numbers 
everywhere, in field and at the roadside. I am quite 
sure the kingbird rears his family without much dis- 
turbance. I know of no bird that ventures to as- 
sault the kingbird's stronghold, and surely there is 
no member of the feathered family that this little 
fellow fears in the least. He stands guard over his 
household, and any other bird designedly, or care- 
lessly approaching it, is met far out from the thresh- 
old with the most vigorous kind of opposition. I 
think he delights in an opponent of large size. He 
seems to learn very quickly that the smaller and 
more active party in the contest has the advantage. 
At any rate he moves to the attack on the larger 
bird with a certain enthusiasm that does not appear 
when the antagonist is of lesser size. So far as I 
know, with a single exception, there is no bird of 



THE FL YCA TCHER. 



113 



the air that really battles with any heart against the 
kingbird. He is king in his realm. 

That such a condition should yield many tyrants 
is a foregone conclusion, I think I have seen at- 
tacks made by this bird that had no basis, only de- 
light in the exercise of power. Last week I was 
witness to a scene of this character. A little bevy 
of crows had dropped down into an old pasture and 
were busy feasting upon the swarming grasshoppers, 
when a kingbird from a neighboring orchard discov- 
ered the happy flock. He sallied out immediately 
and apparently without the least provocation, gave 
battle single handed, to the entire flock of crows. 
At the first note of the enemy's bugle, the crows, in 
their slow, measured way, lumbered off to the neigh- 
boring wood. There was not the least sign of any 
defense, but the retreat was not rapid enough to 
save the black fellows from heavy strokes. With 
that peculiarly sharp, ringing note, the kingbird 
flashed above the crows and dropping upon them, 
gave blow after blow, only desisting when the wood 
was reached. The whole scene had its ludicrous 
side, and one could hardly yield much sympathy to 
the retreating crows, when perhaps a little courage 
on their part would have repelled the diminutive an- 
tagonist. He attacks the hawks in the same bold 
manner and, I am told, does not hesitate to assault 



1 1 4 MY BIRD PA RISBJ ONE A'S. 

the eagle if the king of birds encroaches on flycatch- 
ers's domain. Some one has written that the purple 
martin, a bird about the kingbird's size, often gets 
the best of him and that the battle is frequently 
joined between them and fought so fiercely that it 
ends in the death of one of the combatants. 

The nest of the bird is snugly made and lined 
with no little skill. The number of children varies, 
but usually four are hatched and reared. Flies of 
all kinds form the principal diet of our bird, but he 
is not at all averse to a change in the daily routine. 
At times he has a pronounced relish for the honey 
bee and frequently needs some sharp lessons to pre- 
vent serious loss to the bee keeper. Some kinds of 
fruit are also found on his table, but his principal 
work is done among the flies, so that he may be al- 
ways ranked as one of the farmers' best friends. The 
extent of the country over which he roams is very 
large, reaching from Texas to Canada, and, it is 
said, as far west as the Rocky Mountains. 

His cousins among our feathered friends are 
numerous. The great crested flycatcher, the wood- 
pewee, the phoebe bird and the little flycatcher are 
the principal ones. Of these the most familar is the 
phcebe bird. Almost every farmhouse has its pair 
of phoebes. Its single note, sounding like the word 
phoebe, rapidly spoken, gives the bird its local name. 



THE EL \ 'CA TCHER. 



11 5 



while its quiet domestic tastes endear it to all lovers 
of home. One peculiarity of the phoebe bird is that 
it returns to the same nesting place year after year. 
At the old farm house in the years agone, a nest 
was built in the woodshed just over the door, where 
the many members of the family passed to and fro 
daily. For ten years and more the nest was built 
annually, and the young birds reared. Probably 
some nestling of this lamily returned in the later 
years, and the habit ,w r as only changed by the re- 
moval of the nesting place. 

The little flycatcher that appears in our yards and 
orchards, has some of the prominent traits of his 
kindred. He nests annually near the house, and is 
quite satisfied to use for the purpose of house-build- 
ing almost any kind of materials. A family of these 
birds domiciled in my apple tree, and I never saw a 
busier household Flycatching went on daily until 
the young birds were hatched, and then it seemed 
as though it went on night and day. Sitting in my 
study I could hear the snapping of the bills, and I 
had my relish for the feast with the birds, for each 
fly was freebooter in my vineyard. The wood-pewee 
of this family is to me the sad singer of all our birds. 
His pensive note is the minor strain of the forest, 
and when he is at his summer resort it can be heard 
at almost all hours of the day. 



1 1 6 MY B [RD PA R ISHIONE RS. 

All the members of the flycatching family dress in 
the somberest brown, and in general form have 
little of the beauty of other birds. Little or no 
song is vouchsafed them. Still they have their com- 
pensation in certain traits of character that distin- 
guish them among their many fellows. With valor 
flawless, they illustrate the type of bird character 
which provokes to the good work of high courage. 
Some one has said that he knows tk that the Bible is 
inspired because it inspires him." I think we all 
know that kingbird, and the members of his kind, are 
stout-hearted, because they make us stout-hearted 

Their song is the music of the valorous deed and 
that always is the rich melody of the gods. With 
the advancing season I note the changes in the habits 
of my large bird parish. To-day, the 6th of August, 
the swallows and the bobolinks are gathered in large 
flocks, preparatory to their long journey to the winter 
playground. Nearly all the birds are now bidding 
adieu to the settled home life, and while they drop 
some things that have endeared them to us in many 
ways, they take up and illustrate some new traits 
that impart an added interest to our study. They 
are now free lances in the wide realm of birddom, 
and with a new gladness tell the story of God's reve- 
lations among that legion of creatures, one of which 
does not fall to the ground without his knowledge. 



MIGRATION AND SONG. 

XX. 

In our closing article, it remains to gather some 
of the straws that seem to have scattered by the way 
Quite a number of our birds are yet so much on the 
wing that w T e have only given them very slight notice 
in passing. They will keep, however, until we have, 
opportunity to serve them on some other occasion. 
Bird nature is peculiar as well as perfect, after its 
kind. It conforms strictly to the old gospel maxim, 
" Take no thought for the morrow." It is with 
birds now as ever, no laying by in store, no reaping 
and gathering into barns, but the feeding in the 
great store-house of nature — the Heavenly Father's 
open hand. I do not know of one of our native 
birds that hoards a store of food. They all feast 
and enjoy, and as a rule sit at a well-spread table. 
The birds' means of rapid movement enables him to 
levy tribute on a wide extent of country. Most of 
them may easily, if they choose to do so, dine in a 
different state every day of the year, while several 
species may take each meal hundreds of miles apart. 
The bird of the widest range is not easily discov- 



1 1 8 MY BIRD PA RJSH10NERS. 

ered. Probably sorne member of the great water- 
fowl family stands first in this particular. Many of 
them undoubtedly reach the pole in their northern 
flight and push far down into the tropics for their 
winter outing. Of the smaller birds, the swallow 
reaches a wide range. But perhaps it belongs to 
the diminutive members of the kingdom to cover 
the larger territory. The little humming bird, 
I think. visits every part of the continent 
where there is the least development of summer life. 
The moment blossoms appear anywhere in the frozen 
north, this child of the tropics flashes in and is per- 
fectly at home. If he so elects, he may take the 
" wings of the morning" and remain in the utter- 
most parts of the north, at eventide hieing again to 
his morning haunts, just simply refreshed in all the 
multitude of his labors. For the form material, this 
little fellow illustrates almost the practical annihila- 
tion of space. In the bird's feasting, he levies trib- 
ute on the food of the world. The sweets of the 
flowers, the insects of the air, the innumerable eggs 
of the insects, the seeds of all the plants* are ever at 
his command. Such a thing as dearth of food is not 
a part of the birds' usual experience. One of the 
marvelous provisions for this great family is found at 
the glacier's side. The Arctic summer comes in as 
it were in a day. The plants spring the flowers 



MIGRA TION AND SONG. 



119 



bloom, insect life is abundant. Mosquitoes swarm 
everywhere. All the larger animals betake them- 
selves to the mountains, but the birds' paradise is 
ready for its glad occupants. Several of our smaller 
insect eating birds take possession of this ideal home 
immediately. For themselves, and for their young, 
food is most abundant, while immunity is secured 
from many enemies through the very agency which 
supplies the food. One of our most beautiful spar- 
rows (the white throated) is found in this happy 
company. In another direction, also, this storehouse 
of the north ministers to the wants of the feathered 
kingdom. The young of the mosquito spend their 
first days of life in the water. During the short Arc- 
tic summer they literally swarm in the bays and 
ponds, even with the water very cold from the fast 
melting snow and ice. Millions of fish here find 
their food, which in turn furnish food to the innumer- 
able water fowl that throng this entire region during 
the nesting season. In our own favored state the 
place of the birds in the economy of nature is being 
slowly recognized. The old notion that some are 
helpful and some pernicious is largely a thing of the 
past. Now we know that each species has its place, 
and plays its own important part in the affairs of time. 
Public sentiment has so far crystalized in the right 
direction that nearly all our birds are now protected 



I2 o MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

by law, and the time is not far distant when we shall 
include the few, so far outlawed. When all are thus 
protected and the law generally honored, we shall 
know many of our birds better than we now do, and 
I am sure the character of a few of the species will 
change largely for the better. In our papers we have 
written little of the song with which they greet the 
opening day. The counterpart of the early greeting 
comes again in the evening, but not so clear ancl full as 
in the morning. Fresh from the night's sleep and rest, 
the bird is at his best, and there seems to be at this 
hour a sort of generous competition which adds great 
zest to the occasion. The matins of the birds open 
when the first ray of light streaks the eastern sky. I 
have a notion that some of the kinds sleep with at 
least one eye open. In our latitude the robin is the 
pioneer. The waking and the song seem to be one 
with him. The first note is a clear ringing cheer to 
the morning. It wakes all the sleeping echoes of 
the groves and meadows. It is followed quickly by 
another note, but ere a half dozen are sounded, the 
birds of the district are all awake. Each sings his 
own song, and each is at his best. The music flows 
from its thousand rills into a wide river of melody. 
The discord of the concert is a part we would not 
lose. There are no discords in nature. Her songs 
may break upon human ears in a medley of sounds 



MIGRA TION AND SONG. i 2 1 

that seem at times a mere jangle of chords ; but to 
him who hears aright there is only the harmony born 
of the skies in it all. I have sat with listening ear 
waiting for the morning song of the birds. From 
the great hill nearly a mile away, I have heard the 
faint notes of the hymn as the hill received the first 
faint gleams of the coming day. Down the hillside 
to the glades of the swamp the song rippled, a thou- 
sand voices vieing together, and there the thrushes 
and jays, and blackcaps, and warblers joined in the 
refrain, until the verge of the marsh would pass it on 
up the acclivity to the rectory door, born anew every 
step in the sweetness and joy of vesper, lark, and 
bobolink. Someway it would seem to linger for a 
moment with the one waiting for it, and then flow 
away westward, enriched at every turn with new 
voices, but ever the same glad hymn of praise. 
What else is it so much as the processional which 
precedes and heralds the day, its winged choristers 
wonderfully suggestive of that other choir which in 
its " holy, holy, holy/' ceases not night nor day. 
And so it is the morning song of the birds begins, 
continues and knows no end. Every moment some- 
where it is waning and waxing, too. What we get 
in its coming and going, somebody gets somewhere 
at each successive moment of time. " Old Eng- 
land's drum beat" goes with it, but it is only here 



122 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS. 

and there on the line of longitude that the reveille of 
Britain is sounded. That of the birds outruns. the 
lines of nations, fills all the lines and flows round 
and round the earth, its one great anthem of cease- 
less praise. Ah, I can but write in closing what 
visions of the new day are here ! What broad 
glimpses of the " city four square," its streets of gold, 
its tearless eyes, its unvexed harmony, its everlast- 
ing peace ! The winged creatures of God sirig and 
give praise with the best member they have. To 
walk in the midst of it with open heart, is to catch 
the spirit that glows in the poet's words : 

k ' Those ancient teachers never dumb, 
Tn nature's unhoused Lyceum." 



INDEX. 

The Coming of the Birds, . . .7 

The Paris Berkshire, . . . 12 

Swamp Life, . . . . . 18 

Woodpeckers, . . . . 24 

Hawks, . .v. . . 30 

Bobolink, .... 36 

The Swallow, . . . .42 

Wood Notes, .... 48 

Robins and Blackbirds, . . 54 

Orioles, ..... 60 

The Humming Bird, . . . 66 

The Owl, . . . ..71 

The Crow, . . . . 77 

The English Sparrow, . . .8^ 

The Partridge, .... 89 

The Wren and Purple Crowned Sparrow, . 94 

The Kildeer, Piper, Woodcock and Snipe, 100 

The Wild Pigeon and Cuckoo, . . 106 

The Flycatcher, . . . . 112 

Migration and Song, . . . 117 





ipi 




